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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.

Thomas Dorsey’s “Precious Lord” has been called “the greatest gospel song of all time.” People around the world know it, sing it, and love it because of its profound message of hope and faith. Written in 1932, it continues to appeal deeply to new generations of listeners. Though composed by a young African American blues pianist, the song crosses the lines of race and culture. Everyone from gospel legend Mahalia Jackson to rock ‘n’ roll king Elvis Presley has recorded it.

Like so many great hymns of faith, the song was inspired by a horrific tragedy in the life of its composer. Thomas Andrew Dorsey was born in rural Georgia in 1899, the son of an itinerant preacher.

By age 12, Dorsey left school to become a professional pianist. He played at house parties throughout Atlanta’s black districts.

In his early 20s, Dorsey settled in Chicago. There he played, sang, and published blues compositions under the name “Georgia Tom.” Music critic Stephen Calt described Dorsey saying he “ranked as the most self-conscious, serious, and accomplished blues lyricist of his time.”

In 1925 Dorsey married Nettie Harper. A year later, he experienced a nervous breakdown and was unable to work for two years. To survive, his wife took a job in a laundry to support them. At the urging of his sister-in-law, Dorsey attended a church service where he experienced a spiritual healing. That event, combined with the sudden death of a young neighbor, prompted Dorsey to commit himself more fully to God and Christian music. To mark his new life, he wrote his first gospel song,”If You See My Savior, Tell Him That You Saw Me.”

In 1932 Dorsey accepted an invitation to become choir director of Chicago’s Pilgrim Baptist Church, a position he would hold for nearly 40 years. As the Great Depression wore away at the spirits of Americans, Dorsey viewed his songwriting as an important ministry. He believed his songs “lifted people out of the muck and mire of poverty and gave them … hope.”

In August of ‘32, Dorsey was scheduled to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting in St. Louis. At the time he and his wife were living in a little apartment on the South Side of Chicago. Nettie was pregnant with their first child. He kissed her goodbye and made his way to St. Louis for the revival. The next night, as soon as he finished playing, a Western Union messenger came up to the stage and gave Dorsey an urgent telegram. “I ripped open the envelope,” he recounted later, “and pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: ‘Your wife just died.’”

Dorsey believed his songs “lifted people out of the muck and mire of poverty and gave them … hope.”    

Dorsey remembered the evening as a surreal moment. “People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly keep from crying out.”

Racing home, he learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. “I swung between grief and joy,” he recalled. “Yet that night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together in the same casket.” He managed to get through the funeral visitation and service. But when it was all over, he withdrew from family, friends, and even his beloved music. “I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn’t want to serve him anymore or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well,” he said.

In the midst of despair, a friend visited Dorsey and arranged for him to be left alone in a music room with a piano. “It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows,” Dorsey recalled. For the first time in many days, he sat at a piano using his fingers to browse the keys. Soon, the young artist experienced a personal revival: “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 words [for "Precious Lord"] came into my head-they just seemed to fall into place.”

“Precious Lord” was an immediate and permanent hit. Dorsey himself said, “This is the greatest song I have written.” He went on to sing and direct “Precious Lord” at churches and concerts around the world. To date, the song has been translated into 32 languages.

Dorsey died in January 1993 in Chicago, but his legacy thrives. With his innovative blending of sacred and secular styles, he is remembered as the architect of modern gospel music.

The melody, although credited to Dorsey, was taken from an 1844 hymn entitled, “Maitland,” by American composer, George N. Allen (1812-1877). Dorsey said he used it as inspiration.

It was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s favorite song, and he often invited gospel legend Mahalia Jackson to sing it at civil rights rallies to inspire the crowds; at his request she sang it at his funeral in April 1968. Opera singer Leontyne Price sang it at the state funeral of President Lyndon Baines Johnson in January 1973, and Aretha Franklin sang it at Mahalia Jackson’s funeral in 1972. It was sung by Nina Simone at the Westbury music fair on April 7, 1968, three days after the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King.

“Take My Hand, Precious Lord” was inducted into the Christian Music Hall of Fame in 2007. It was also included in the list of Songs of the Century, by  Recording Industry of America and the National Endowment for the Arts.

       

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

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 light 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, I’m lone

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home