When pGeace, like a river,

aCttendeth my Gway

When sEmorrows like sAea billows rDoll

WhatGever my lCot,

Thou hast tAmaught me to Dsay

It is Gwell, it is Cwell wDith my sGoul

Though SGatan should buffet,

though tCrials should cGome

Let tEmhis blessed aAssurance contDrol

That CGhrist hath reCgarded

my Amhelpless eDstate

And hath sGhed His own bClood

fDor my sGoul

My Gsin, O the bliss

of this gClorious thGought

My Emsin, not in pAart but the wDhole

Is nGailed to the cCross,

and I Ambear it no mDore

Praise the LGord,

praise the CLord, DO my sGoul!