“It is well” (2 Kings 4).
THERE’S beauty above in the bright blue sky,
On earth is the reaper’s glee;
‘Tis harvest time in Jehovah’s land,
And the corn by the breeze is gently fann’d
Like the waves of a golden sea.
But sorrow shall wait on the reaper’s mirth,
The lord of those fields shall sigh;
One only boy Is his father’s joy,
This day that boy must die.
And the sun has look’d forth in his morning pride
On the child with a scorching ray;
“My head! my head!”
‘Twas all he said,
‘Twas all the child could say.
And, see, one is come, that has borne him home,
And he sits on his mother’s knee;
But who can tell
How her countenance fell,
Her alter’d boy to see?
He knows her not with his dull, fixed eye,
On her bosom he pillows his head;
When the sun shines bright
From his noontide height,
The boy on her knee is dead.
But faith within the mother’s breast
Shall calm her agony;
“The God who gave,
Is the God who shall save,
And give back my boy to me.”
Though sad be her heart, the bright lamp of hope
Shall light up its innermost cell;
The son lies dead
On the prophet’s bed,
But the mother can say, “IT IS WELL.”
‘Tis well with the mother, ‘tis well with the boy,
His breath and his life are restored;
The child is awake!
Let her hasten and take
To her arms this new gift from the Lord.
And I know it is well with the servants of God,
Naught them from their stronghold shall sever
Whether Christ shall soon come,
Or they be laid in the tomb,
‘Twill be well with His people forever.
They fear not the “arrow that flieth by day,”
Nor the plague that walks forth in the dark;
The sun shall not smite,
Nor the moon by night,
One who’s hidden in Jesus, the Ark.
They fear not to die, for the deep, dark grave
Is a bed where their Saviour has lain;
They sink not to hell,
But with Him they shall dwell,
For Jesus can raise them again.
And can I, too, hope to arise from the dead,
And Christ as my Saviour to see?
If I trust in His word,
And own Him as Lord,
‘Twill be well then forever with me.