Lainey Wilson & Vince Gill Perform ‘Go Rest High on That Mountain’ Live at the 2025 Emmys In Memoriam
It was the kind of moment that strips away the glitz of Hollywood and replaces it with something far heavier — truth.
On Sunday night, the 2025 Emmy Awards paused its celebration of television’s brightest achievements to remember those the industry had lost over the past year. And in that silence, two voices rose that no one in the room will soon forget: Lainey Wilson and Vince Gill.
The stage was simple, dressed in shadows and soft candlelight. No sweeping sets, no glittering costumes. Just a microphone, Vince’s acoustic guitar, and Lainey standing beside him with her wide-brimmed hat held respectfully at her side. When Vince struck the first chord of “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” the Dolby Theatre — moments earlier alive with applause — sank into reverent stillness.
Vince Gill, who penned the song three decades ago after the passing of his brother and later country legend Keith Whitley, sang the opening verse with a voice weathered by both time and tenderness. His delivery was steady, prayerful, each note carrying the weight of a man who had lived with both loss and faith.
Then Lainey Wilson joined him. Her unmistakable Louisiana twang, smoky and soaring, blended seamlessly with Vince’s tenor. Their voices wrapped around each other like threads in a hymn, lifting the words into something larger than music. Lainey didn’t just sing — she poured out a plea, her youthful tone offering balance to Vince’s seasoned ache. Together, they carried the audience into a place where grief and grace walked hand in hand.
As the In Memoriam reel rolled behind them, faces filled the screen — actors, producers, writers, directors, and beloved figures who had shaped generations of storytelling. With every image, the song seemed to gather more weight. By the chorus, tears shimmered across the audience. Emmy-nominated stars dabbed at their eyes. Families at home clutched one another as the words — “Go rest high on that mountain, son your work on earth is done” — resonated deeper than ever before.
It was not entertainment. It was not spectacle. It was worship, a moment of national remembrance wrapped in melody.
By the final refrain, the theatre was hushed, breathing in the last notes as though unwilling to let them go. Vince closed his eyes, strumming gently, while Lainey lifted her gaze upward, her voice trembling but resolute. When the last chord faded, the silence that followed was more powerful than any standing ovation. The entire room remained still, the grief shared, the tribute complete.
For Vince, it was a return to the song that has become an anthem of farewell across America. For Lainey, it was a passing of the torch — a chance to remind the world that country music’s power lies not in fame, but in its ability to heal.
And for everyone watching, it was proof that even in Hollywood’s brightest night, the most unforgettable moment can be the simplest one: two voices, one guitar, one song that has outlived decades, carrying us once more through the valley of remembrance.