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Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
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Let this blest assurance control,
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That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
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And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Verse 3
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My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
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My sin, not in part but the whole,
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Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
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Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Verse 4
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And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
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The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
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The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
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Even so, it is well with my soul.
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