The Birth of “Precious Lord”
June 29th, 2010
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by admin · Filed Under: Articles · Blog · Faith · Guidance · Spiritual Health
Some time ago I received an email article from a friend with the title, “The Birth of the Song ‘Precious Lord’.” The article ended with the name Tommy Dorsey and appeared to infer that it was the well-known big band leader who had written the story.
The article aroused my curiosity and upon research I discovered that it was in fact Thomas Andrew Dorsey of gospel renown who wrote the story after the death of his wife, Nettie, and their newborn child in 1932. The story, sad and tragic as it is, is also a powerful and inspiring illustration of God’s grace. The article was published in the inspirational magazine Guideposts in 1987 and in the July/August 2000 edition of Hidden Wisdom magazine.
Here’s the story:
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 Southside.
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 messener 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 Frye, who seemed to know what I needed. On the following Saturday evening he took me up to Madam 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, one I’d never heard or played before, and the words into my head – they just seemed to fall into place:
Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand! I am tired, I am weak, I am 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, hen 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.
- Tommy Dorsey
The song has been translated into 32 languages and was the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s favorite, the one Mahalia Jackson sang at his funeral. It was also sung by Leontyne Price at President Lyndon B. Johnson’s funeral.
Thomas Andrew Dorsey was born in Villa Rica, Georgia, on July 1, 1899. He was a blues band leader for singers including Ma Rainey, but after becoming a Christian he turned to writing gospel music, reportedly after undergoing a spiritual experience while hearing the hymn “I Do, Don’t You?” at a Baptist convention. Across the course of his lifetime he wrote more than a thousand gospel hymns, including “Say Amen,” “Somebody,” “Take My Hand” and “Peace in the Valley.” He died in Chicago on January 23, 1993.
Remember, God is Blessing You Right Now!
Rev. Alan A. Rowbotham
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Rev. Alan A. Rowbotham, a Unity minister for over thirty-eight years, invites you to subscribe to his free inspirational newsletter, Spiritual Solutions.
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