Take My Hand Precious Lord
by Thomas A. Dorsey

"This song is very dear to me. I left my home one morning with another fellow driving to St. Louis to sing in a revival at a Baptist church. My wife was going to become a mother in a few days. We got 24 miles outside of Chicago, and I discovered I had left my briefcase with all my music in it. I turned around, drove back to Chicago, And I had discovered I had left my briefcase with all my music in it. I tuned around, drove back to Chicago and went home. My wife was sleeping, and I didn't disturb her. When I got back in the car, the other fellow said he had changed his mind and decided not to go. As it was, Providence was trying to tell me not to go away. But I went on to St. Louis, anyway. Next night, I was working in a revival, and I received a telegram: 'Your wife just died. Come home.' Some fellows volunteered to drive me to Chicago, and when I got home the next day, I had the body moved. I had a bouncing baby boy. But that night, the baby died, That was double trouble. I felt like going back on God. He had mistreated me, I felt. About a week later, after we had put the baby and the wife away in the same casket, I was sitting with the late Theodore Fry, just drowsing. Just like water dropping from the crevice of a rock, the words dropped into the music, 'Take My Hand, Precious Lord.'"
óRev. Thomas A. Dorsey

Take My Hand, Precious Lord

Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Thru the storm, thru the night, lead me on the light
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

When my way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near
When my life 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.

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