For many years this hymn was one of my favorite solos. In its original form it read, ”Bury thy sorrow, hide it with care;” but when Mr. Bliss found it in a newspaper he arranged it to read, ”Go bury thy sorrow, the world hath its share,” and set it to music. It has been blessed to thousands of people, and will remain as one of his best productions when many of his other songs are forgotten.
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.
A lady who had suffered much, and had passed through many great trials, set much store by this hymn. One day as she sang it her little daughter, who was playing in the room, looked up into her mother's face and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. The child called out: