Precious Lord Take My Hand  By Rev. Thomas Dorsey
Across Pacific & Asia

Precious Lord
By Thomas A. Dorsey

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.  Psalm 34:18

Credited with over 1,000 songs. See link below to hear his story in his own words.

______________________________________________________
 
Back in 1932, I was 32 years old and a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie, and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago's South side.

One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis, where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn't want to go. Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child.  But a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. I kissed Nettie good-bye, clattered downstairs to our Model A and, in a fresh Lake Michigan breeze, chugged out of Chicago on Route 66.

However, outside the city, I discovered that in my anxiety at leaving, I had forgotten my music case. I wheeled around and headed back.  I found Nettie sleeping peacefully. I hesitated by her bed; something was strongly telling me to stay. But eager to get on my way, and not wanting to disturb Nettie, I shrugged off the feeling and quietly slipped out of the room with my music.

The next night, in the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED.

People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly keep from crying out. I rushed to a phone and called home.  All I could hear on the other end was "Nettie is dead. Nettie is dead."

When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy.

Yet that night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve Him any more or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well.

But then, as I hunched alone in that dark apartment those first sad days, I thought back to the afternoon I went to St. Louis. Something kept telling me to stay with Nettie. Was that something God? Oh, if I had paid more attention to Him that day, I would have stayed and been with Nettie when she died. From that moment on I vowed to listen more closely to Him. But still I was lost in grief.

Everyone was kind to me, especially a friend, Professor Fry, who seemed to know what I needed. On the following Saturday evening he took me up to Malone's Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows. I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me then. I felt at peace. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God.  I found myself playing a melody, into my head - they just seemed to fall into place:
 

            Precious Lord, take my hand
            Lead me on, let me stand
            I'm tired, I’m weak, I’m lone
            Through the storm, through the night
            Lead me on to the light
            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
 
            When my way grows drear precious Lord linger near
            When my life is almost gone
            Hear my cry, hear my call
            Hold my hand lest I fall
            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
 
            When the darkness appears and the night draws near
            And the day is past and gone
            At the river I stand
            Guide my feet, hold my hand
            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
 
            Precious Lord, take my hand
            Lead me on, let me stand
            I'm tired, I’m weak, Lord I’m worn
            Through the storm, through the night
            Lead me on to the light
            Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home


As the Lord gave me these words and melody, He also healed my spirit. I learned that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when He is closest, and when we are most open to His restoring Power. And so I go on living for God willingly and joyfully, until that Day comes when He will take me and gently lead me home.




We have more recently received this email:
 
I was having a discussion with another organist-music director friend of mine about the composer of "Precious Lord," then did some extensive research on the internet.

I think it would be important to your web-visitors that you make it clear that this song was NOT written by the famous musician/Big Band-leader Tommy Dorsey, but by a respected african american gospel musician, Thomas A. Dorsey.

Thank you.
John Leslie

 
Ed:  Thanks for this clarification.

Here's the report from "Truth or Fiction":


bullet Summary of the eRumor
The story of a jazz musician named Tommy who went through a personal tragedy that led to his writing the song "Precious Lord Take My Hand."
He was Tommy Dorsey, the great trombonist and band leader.

 

 

 

bullet The Truth
There have been many printed references to this story and connected it to the great American band leader, Tommy Dorsey.
But the classic gospel song "Precious Lord Take My Hand" was actually written by a different man with the same name.

The trombonist and band leader named Tommy Dorsey was born in 1905 and died in 1956.

Tommy Dorsey the composer of "Precious Lord Take My Hand" was a jazz pianist and composer was born in 1899 and died in 1993.
He is regarded by many as the father of gospel music.
After a successful career as a blues musician, he switched to gospel music.
For more than 40 years, he was the choir director Chicago's Pilgrim Baptist Church.

The actual story of the tragic death of his wife is a bit different from the eRumor.
In an account in his own words written for Guideposts Magazine, Dorsey said he was actually scheduled to be in St. Louis to sing for a revival.
He had anxiety about going because his wife was in her 9th month of pregnancy
When he left his home to head for St. Louis, he realized that he had forgotten his music case, so he returned to get it and found his wife sleeping.
He stood next to her and felt that something was telling him to stay home.
He decided to leave and headed back to his car for the drive to the meetings.
The next night at the revival and after he had finished singing, a telegram was handed to him that said his wife had just died.
He returned home to learn that his wife had given birth to a baby boy before she died.
Before the night was over, the baby had died as well.
Dorsey went through a difficult period after that.
He said he wanted to give up serving the Lord and go back to jazz.
One of the thoughts that haunted him was whether his reluctance to leave his pregnant wife had been a leading from God and whether he had been disobedient by ignoring it.
He vowed that he would never be insensitive to such a leading again.
It was during a subsequent visit to a friend that he sat down at a piano and found himself at peace and a melody being played.
That became the song "Precious Lord Take My Hand."
Dorsey wrote, "As the Lord gave me these words and melody, He also healed my spirit. I learned that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when He is closest, and when we are most open to His restoring power. And so I go on living for God willingly and joyfully, until that day comes when He will take me and gently lead me home."


Life history of Rev. Thomas Dorsey   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_A._Dorsey
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEosw5GUCzQ  tells his own story
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kA0UV62zQFc  directs his song
Watch the tears of praise as they sing this song. 
 





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