It is well.
Horatio and Anna Spafford and their four young daughters, Annie, Maggie, Bessie, and Tanetta, were living in Chicago in 1871 when the Great Fire devastated the city and destroyed their estate.
Insurance would not cover the losses, labeling the destruction an "act of God."
In 1873, Horatio planned a stay in Europe for his family, desiring to improve his wife’s health. Business delayed Horatio’s departure, but he sent Anna and the girls ahead of him to Paris on the luxury steamer, Ville du Havre.
The steamer would sink in the middle of the ocean after a tragic collision with the British iron sailing ship, the Lochearn.
Anna was found unconscious and rescued by the crew of the Lochearn, which itself was severely damaged. All four daughters drowned. The crew called for the help of a cargo vessel, the Trimountain, which saved the few survivors.
“God gave me four daughters. Now they have been taken from me. Someday I will understand why.” These were the words that fell from Anna’s lips, as recalled by fellow survivor, Pastor Weiss.
Nine days later, Anna landed in Wales and cabled Horatio the now-famous telegram, “Saved alone. What shall I do…”
Devastated, when Horatio received Anna's telegram, he quickly left for Europe to bring his wife home. While crossing the Atlantic, the ship’s captain called Horatio to his cabin to tell him that they were approaching the place where his daughters had died.
Horatio later wrote to Anna’s sister, “On Thursday last, we passed over the spot where she went down, in mid-ocean, the waters three miles deep. But I do not think of our dear ones there. They are safe, folded, the dear lambs.”
While passing over the place of his great loss, Horatio penned the hymn, “It is Well With My Soul.”
It Is Well With My Soul, by Horatio Spafford
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Reader, I share this story with you because it has been a comfort to me in times when it has seemed that everything was lost and that all the world was hopeless. Faced with the loss of everything, Horatio, as he penned in the final two stanzas of his hymn, looked to the return of the King. He called to mind the day that is coming and that is not far, when all death, loss, and tragedy will be undone.
I pray that his testimony will serve as an invitation for you to call to mind the very same when you are faced with unbearable grief and hopelessness.
