The Shunammite Woman
All is well. Through those long years of arms that ache to hold a child as others do, all is well. All is well— oh yes, how well! The gift, unasked, is sweet indeed. He nestles close. All is well. All is well, though he moans in your arms and then the silence rips your heart to shreds. All is well. "All is well", you tell your husband, voice serene, then ride away at breakneck pace. All is well. All is well: the prophet sees your bitter grief. You won't leave till he comes with you. All is well. All is well— oh yes, most well! Your son's alive. You hold him tightly while your spirit sings. All is well.