Scripture Verse

They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Isaiah 35:10


Words: Ma­ry A. Ba­che­lor, in Hymns for the Use of the Sun­day School of Tri­ni­ty Me­tho­dist Epis­co­pal Church, Jer­sey Ci­ty, ed­ited by George H. Whit­ney (Me­tho­dist Epis­co­pal Church North, 1868).

Music: Lux­em­bourg Phi­lip P. Bliss (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

  • Adana Ira D. San­key, Chris­tian En­dea­vor Hymns (New York & Bos­ton Mas­sa­chu­setts: Big­low & Main and the Unit­ed So­cie­ty of Chris­tian En­dea­vor, 1894), num­ber 73 (🔊 pdf nwc). Some hym­nals show the com­pos­er as Harry S. Low­er, one of San­key’s pseu­do­nyms.

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Ba­che­lor (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Philip P. Bliss (1838–1876)

Origin of the Hymn

The au­thor of the hymn was the daugh­ter of a min­is­ter. When she wrote these lines she was liv­ing with her bro­ther, whom she great­ly loved.

He al­so was a min­is­ter, and had the us­ual cares and bur­dens to car­ry that are in­ci­dent to a pas­tor’s life. To him she con­fid­ed all her joys and sor­rows.

One day, af­ter hav­ing dis­closed to him some pe­cul­iar tri­al which she was en­dur­ing, she was re­proached by her con­sci­ence for hav­ing need­less­ly add­ed to his al­rea­dy nu­mer­ous cares.

She stood by the op­en win­dow, and saw the long, hea­vy sha­dows cast by the tall pop­lar trees across the lawn, and the thought came to her:

That is just what I have done to my bro­ther! Why did I do it? Why did I not ra­ther bu­ry my own sor­row, and al­low on­ly words of cheer and bright­ness to reach his ears?

With such thoughts in her mind, and with tears of re­gret fill­ing her eyes, she re­tired to her lit­tle at­tic bed­room, and there wrote the hymn that has been so blessed.

Sankey, pp. 160–61


Go bu­ry thy sor­row, the world hath its share;
Go bu­ry it deep­ly, go hide it with care.
Go think of it calm­ly, when cur­tained by night;
Go tell it to Je­sus, and all will be right.

Go tell it to Je­sus, He know­eth thy grief;
Go tell it to Je­sus, He’ll send thee re­lief;
Go gather the sun­shine He sheds on the way:
He’ll light­en thy bur­den—Go, wea­ry one, pray.

Hearts grow­ing awea­ry with hea­vi­er woe
Now droop ’mid the dark­ness—Go, com­fort them, go!
Go bu­ry thy sor­row, let oth­ers be blessed;
Go give them the sun­shine, tell Je­sus the rest.