Scripture Verse

Weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth. Luke 8:52


Sarah Doudney

Words: Sar­ah Doud­ney, Psalms of Life (pub­lished by Houls­ton), 1871.

Music: Ah­vaz Ira D. San­key, 1884 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Ira D. Sankey


Each mem­ber of the Ma­son­ic Quar­tet of Pitts­burgh [Penn­syl­van­ia] re­cent­ly re­ceived a check and a note of thanks for sing­ing at the fun­er­al of Cap­tain S. S. Brown. An un­u­su­al sto­ry was al­so made pub­lic there­by.

In the last hours of the turf king’s life, one of the dai­ly pap­ers says, he had an in­ter­val in which his mind was clear. He called his daugh­ter-in-law and asked if she would take on her­self the task of see­ing that The Chris­tian’s Good Night was sung at his fun­er­al; and he told her, in a dis­joint­ed way, of a dream from which he had just awak­ened.

He had thought him­self dead, and there were four min­is­ters tak­ing part in his fun­er­al. He named the min­is­ters and said that one of them had brok­en down while mak­ing an ad­dress, and that an­oth­er, nam­ing this min­is­ter al­so, had ta­ken up the ad­dress.

Cap­tain Brown said that he awoke as all were sing­ing, The Chris­tian’s Good-night, and that he had joined with them in the sing­ing. The dy­ing man smiled faint­ly at the pic­ture he drew, but begged his daugh­ter-in-law to re­mem­ber her prom­ise.

The words of this hymn were oc­ca­sioned by the death of a friend. They were hand­ed to me at Bris­tol, Eng­land.

I wrote the mu­sic soon af­ter­ward, and sang it at the fun­er­al of Charles H. Spur­geon, the great Lon­don preach­er. It has since be­come ve­ry use­ful on two con­ti­nents as a fun­er­al hymn.

Sankey, pp. 259–60


Sleep on, belovèd, sleep, and take thy rest;
Lay down thy head upon the Savior’s breast;
We love thee well, but Jesus loves thee best—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Calm is thy slumber as an infant’s sleep;
But thou shalt wake no more to toil and weep;
Thine is a perfect rest, secure and deep—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until the shadows from this earth are cast,
Until He gathers in His sheaves at last;
Until the twilight gloom be over past—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until the Easter glory lights the skies,
Until the dead in Jesus shall arise,
And He shall come, but not in lowly guise—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until, made beautiful by love divine,
Thou, in the likeness of thy Lord shalt shine,
And He shall bring that golden crown of thine—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Only Good night, belovèd—not farewell!
A little while, and all His saints shall dwell
In hallowed unison indivisible—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until we meet again before His throne,
Clothed in the spotless robe He gives His own,
Until we know even as we are known—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Christ Resurrects the Daughter of Jairus
Friedrich Overbeck