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It is well with my soul

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When a truck of troubles
Rattles past my window,
Dropping off packages
I did not order
And never wanted to receive,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .

When just ahead,
A mountain of uncertainty,
Too steep to see across,
Too rugged to climb over,
Moves in front of me,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .

When a hurricane of sin,
My own and all mankind’s,
Every arrogant disobedience
To the laws of God,
Blows devastation across the land,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .

When the bridge to companionship
Collapses beneath me
And disappears,
Leaving me all alone and lonely,
With no hand to hold in mine,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .

When a river of grief
Overflows its banks,
Then rolls up to my door
And slides inside
To come up over my head,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .

When the husk that girds me
Weakens and cracks,
Leaving me vulnerable
To disease and ruin--
To unremitting pain,
I could almost give up in despair,
But still . . .


I shall each day cling to faith,
That no matter the ills of earth,
God sent His Son to die for sin and rise again,
Not just for others, but for me,
And He is with me always.
I shall not give up in despair,
For STILL--
and forever . . .
It is well with my soul.​

When a truck of troubles rattles past my window...

Verna Cole Mitchell