Sankey spot­ted these words in a Bri­tish news­pa­per while on an evan­gel­ism tour in Scot­land with Dwight Moo­dy. He tore the po­em from the pa­per, put it in his pock­et, and for­got about it. Lat­er that day, at the end of their ser­vice in Edin­burgh, Moo­dy asked Sank­ey for a clos­ing song. Ira was caught by sur­prise, but the Ho­ly Spir­it re­mind­ed him of the po­em in his pock­et. He brought it out, said a pray­er, then com­posed the tune as he sang. Thus was born “The Nine­ty and Nine.” This was Sank­ey’s first at­tempt at writ­ing a hymn tune. Not bad for a first try!

Many years ago there lived at North­field [Mass­a­chu­setts] an in­fi­del; and one day, while all the neigh­bors had gone to the meet­ing at the church, he sat at home alone feel­ing dis­sa­tis­fied with him­self and all the world in gen­er­al. But he heard Mr. Sankey sing­ing “The Nine­ty and Nine”; and there was some­thing in the hymn that he could not es­cape. The mel­o­dy rang in his ears, and the thought of the lost sheep trou­bled him that night, and the next, and the fol­low­ing day un­til the ev­en­ing, when he could stand it no long­er. He went to the meet­ing and re­turned a saved man.

A few years lat­er he was tak­en ill. One day he said to his wife, “Raise the win­dow; I hear ‘The Nine­ty and Nine.’” Then he list­ened at­tent­ive­ly un­til the last notes of the hymn had died out; and turn­ing from the win­dow he said, “I am dy­ing; but it is all right, for I am rea­dy. I shall ne­ver hear ‘The Nine­ty and Nine’ again on earth, but I am glad that I have heard it once more to­day.”