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Take My Hand, Precious Lord
by
Tennessee Ernie Ford
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When peace, like a river, attendeth my way When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say It is well, it is well, with my soul It is well, with my soul It is well, with my soul It is well, it is well, with my soul Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come Let this blessed assurance control That Christ has regarded my helpless estate And hath shed His own blood for my soul 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 Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! It is well, with my soul It is well, with my soul It is well, it is well, with my soul And Lord, haste the day when my 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 It is well, with my soul It is well, with my soul It is well, it is well, with my soul
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