They were a happy family—a prominent Chicago law partner, his beloved wife, and their four daughters, living a life filled with promise and possibility. To the outside world, Horatio Gates Spafford had it all: wealth, status, and a home full of joy. But fate, ever cruel and unpredictable, was already knocking on the door.
The Fire That Changed Everything
In October 1871, the Great Chicago Fire tore through the city’s heart. A summer of drought and a city built largely of wood turned Chicago into a tinderbox. The fire burned for two days, devouring over 17,000 structures and leaving 100,000 people—a third of the city’s population—homeless. Spafford, who had invested much of his wealth in real estate along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, lost almost everything in the inferno.
Resilient and industrious, Horatio tried to rebuild. But fate was not finished. Two years later, an economic downturn added to his mounting financial difficulties. Longing for rest and a break from the heartbreak, he arranged a family trip to Europe. It was to be a much-needed respite from the chaos that had defined their recent lives.
Disaster at Sea
In November 1873, Horatio’s wife and daughters boarded the Ville du Havre, a luxury French steamer bound for Europe. Horatio remained behind in Chicago, detained by business matters, but planned to join them shortly.
Tragedy struck just seven days into the journey. On November 22, the Ville du Havre collided with the British iron clipper Loch Earn in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The impact was catastrophic—the Ville du Havre broke nearly in two and sank in only twelve minutes. Many of the lifeboats had been painted fast to the deck and could not be freed in time.
Of the 313 souls aboard, 226 perished. Among the dead were all four of the Spafford daughters:
- Annie, age 11
- Margaret, age 9
- Elizabeth, age 5
- Tanetta, age 2
Horatio’s wife, Anna, was pulled from the wreckage unconscious, clinging to a piece of driftwood. When she finally arrived in Wales nine days later, she sent her husband a devastating telegram:
“Saved alone. What shall I do.”
This short message, preserved in the Library of Congress, remains one of the most heart-wrenching telegrams ever sent.
The Birth of a Hymn
As soon as he received Anna’s message, Horatio set sail for England. During his voyage, the captain summoned him to the bridge and gently informed him they were passing over the area where the Ville du Havre had sunk.
Moved by grief yet sustained by faith, Spafford looked into the deep waters and found words that would eventually bring comfort to millions:
It Is Well With My Soul
Horatio Gates SpaffordWhen peace like a river attended 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 soulThough Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath 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, oh, my soulFor me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live;
If dark hours about me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.And Lord haste the day when my faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll
The trumpet shall sound and the Lord shall descend
Even so, it is well with my soulIt is well with my soul.
Oh it is well, it is well with my soul.It is well with my soul.
“It Is Well With My Soul” is not simply a song—it is a declaration of resilience, of anchoring oneself to a peace that transcends comprehension.
Rebuilding in a New Land
The Spaffords’ story did not end with the hymn. In the years following their daughters’ deaths, Anna gave birth to three more children: Horatio Jr., Bertha, and Grace. Yet sorrow remained a familiar visitor. Their only son, Horatio Jr., died at age three of scarlet fever.
Wounded and weary, the Spaffords sought healing. In 1881, they left Chicago and moved to Jerusalem, seeking a life of purpose beyond their pain. Along with a small group of spiritual seekers, they founded The American Colony.
A Legacy of Compassion
The American Colony became a beacon of hope in a turbulent region. Its members opened hospitals, soup kitchens, and orphanages. They welcomed those in need without regard to nationality or religion. Muslims, Jews, Christians—all received aid from the same hand.
Bertha Spafford, writing to a supporter, explained:
“We make no distinction in nationality or creed, the only requirement being if they absolutely need the help.”
During World War I, their humanitarian efforts expanded:
- They ran an embroidery factory, employing hundreds of women.
- Their soup kitchen served over 1,100 people daily.
- They operated six hospitals under the Turkish occupation.
- They distributed international aid throughout Palestine after the war.
They even became de facto peacekeepers. The American Colony was one of the few groups trusted by all sides in a deeply divided land.
A Testament in Images and Stone
In addition to their aid work, members of the colony documented life in early 20th-century Palestine. Their photographs, now housed in museums and archives around the world, offer a stark visual record of famine, disease, and war.
Today, the former American Colony building stands as a hotel in Jerusalem. It was there, within its historic walls, that Israeli and Palestinian representatives met to begin talks leading to the 1993 Oslo Accords.
Their legacy continues through the Spafford Children’s Center, founded by Bertha in 1925. Still active today, the center provides mental and physical healthcare to over 30,000 children each year.
A Song in the Night
Spafford’s poetic voice never dimmed. In 1878, he published another powerful poem, born of the same pain and the same unshakable hope:
There’s darkness all round in my earthly affairs, —
Wave following wave, tribulation and cares;
My way is shut up on the left and the right;—
A song in the night,—a song in the night,—
My heart, canst thou give Him a song in the night?Right here something says: “It were well that the sun
Should just streak the East ere the song is begun;
‘Twere prudent to wait for a trifle of light:—”
Away with the doubt, —now a song in the night.
A song in the night,—a song in the night,—
With David, I’ll give Him a song in the night.The way and the time I’m not certain about,—
Of this sure I am,—that He will bring me out;
And so, waiting not for fulfillment and sight,
I’ll discount His promise with songs in the night.
A song in the night,—a song in the night,—
Right here,—now,—I’ll give Him a song in the night!No incense which rises to God on our part,
So grateful as song from a pain-stricken heart:—
So sorrow itself shall be clad with delight,
For sorrow alone can give songs in the night.
A song in the night,—a song in the night,—
Let all that is in me, give songs in the night!
Final Reflections
Horatio Spafford’s story is not one of tragedy alone—it is one of radical empathy, transformed pain, and resilient faith. He did not let grief define him. Instead, he let it refine him.
Millions have drawn comfort from his hymn. Thousands have been nourished by his humanitarian work. And generations have been shaped by the legacy of one man who dared to say, through trembling lips:
It is well with my soul.
