by the tree
it is well
When peace like a river Attendeth my way When sorrows like the sea billows roll  Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say It is well It is well with my soul  It is well With my soul It is well It is well with my soul  My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, yeah Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul! And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight The clouds be rolled back as the scroll The trump shall resound And the Lord shall descend!  Even so, it is well with my soul.