IS IT WELL WITH THE CHILD?
"Is it well with the child? And she answered, It is well."
II Kings iv, 26.
II Kings iv, 26.
IS it well with the child, when in life's early morn,
His glad, innocent smiles have thrown o'er him a spell,
So pure and so holy, that guilt's cringing form
Shrinks abashed from his presence? 'Tis well—it is well.
His glad, innocent smiles have thrown o'er him a spell,
So pure and so holy, that guilt's cringing form
Shrinks abashed from his presence? 'Tis well—it is well.
Is it well with the child, when blest from above
With parents to guard, in whose heart he doth dwell?
When with kisses and soft murmured whispers of love,
He glides into slumber? 'Tis well—it is well.
With parents to guard, in whose heart he doth dwell?
When with kisses and soft murmured whispers of love,
He glides into slumber? 'Tis well—it is well.
Is it well with the child, when beneath the fond gaze
Of the friends whose affection no language can tell,
He unfolds like a flower, 'neath the sun's warming rays,
Into goodness and gentleness? Sure, it is well.
Of the friends whose affection no language can tell,
He unfolds like a flower, 'neath the sun's warming rays,
Into goodness and gentleness? Sure, it is well.
Is it well with the child, when with sickness oppress'd,
Whose dreaded approaches no art can repel?
He murmurs and groans in his troubled unrest,
And with soul-piercing cries, begs for aid—is it well?
Whose dreaded approaches no art can repel?
He murmurs and groans in his troubled unrest,
And with soul-piercing cries, begs for aid—is it well?
Is it well with the child, when his quivering form
Is thrilled with an anguish, how deep, none can tell—
When curdles the blood, which of late flowed so warm,
And the death-pang comes o'er him? Oh say, is it well?
Is thrilled with an anguish, how deep, none can tell—
When curdles the blood, which of late flowed so warm,
And the death-pang comes o'er him? Oh say, is it well?
Is it well with the child, when slow to the grave
He is borne at the sound of the deep-tolling bell?
When his spirit returns to the Father who gave,
And our home is left desolate? Oh, is it well?
He is borne at the sound of the deep-tolling bell?
When his spirit returns to the Father who gave,
And our home is left desolate? Oh, is it well?
Is it well with the child, when he soars to the light,
Which no cloud can o'ershadow, nor darkness dispel?
Ad is clothed in a garment of holiness bright,
And on Jesus' own bosom finds rest—it is well.
Which no cloud can o'ershadow, nor darkness dispel?
Ad is clothed in a garment of holiness bright,
And on Jesus' own bosom finds rest—it is well.
Is it well with the child, when amid the bright throng
He joins the full chorus which seraphim swell,
And in heaven-taught language re-echoes the song?
Is it well with the child? It is well—it is well.
He joins the full chorus which seraphim swell,
And in heaven-taught language re-echoes the song?
Is it well with the child? It is well—it is well.