Wendy Smith

It is Well
Canvas and acrylic
5′ x 5′
Email: wendy.r.smith@gmail.com
Website: http://www.wendysmith.net

Artist Statement

In 12 minutes the ship had completely sunk.
“Saved Alone”… His wife Anna had survived… He was on his way.

The captain told Mr. Spafford when they reached 77º 21’N, 35º 31’W, precisely where the Villa du Havre had sunk along with his precious daughters. Then Mr. Spafford went below and wrote the words to the famous hymn It is well.

“When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot – though hast taught me to know
It is well, It is well with my soul”

Out of the depths of his great loss and sorrow came a song that reveals the depth of his heart, that it is possible to draw near to God in both times of peace and times of great storms.

Not long before the ship sank he had already lost his only son and faced financial ruin. Mr. Spafford’s loss reminds me of Job, who lost everything, and yet speaks of God’s greatness.

Job 26:10 “He has inscribed a circle on the surface of the waters…” (NASB)

The wood texture represents another part of the song that talks about our sin being nailed to the cross.

The hymn ends by focusing on Christ’s return.


It is Well with My Soul, by Horatio Spafford and Philip Bliss

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 blest assurance control,
That Christ has 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!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of 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.


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