Take My Hand, Precious Lord
Tom Tripp performs this gospel that was written by Thomas Andrew Dorsey, 1932..click on the lyrics, to read the backgound of this Gospel
Country Music, Gospels, StoryTeller, psalmist , Spoken Word
I want to say thank you to John Goode at radio Yass FM100.3 in Australia and Radio Southland 96.4 FM, Invercargill, New Zealand , presented by Noel Parry, and ?COUNTRY ROADS? RADIO SHOW AT
FM 98.5 THE PULSE OF THE VALLEYS SHEPPARTON
VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA
and other radio station around the world for giving my songs/stories air play
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Welcome to my "Sound Click" web pages.
I am a Storyteller and a psalmist , a talker of music. and a writter.
Please visit my Home Page at www.countrylovin.us or go to my link page here on SC and click on the link there.
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Here is a little about myself:
TOM TRIPP's love for country music can be traced back to his growing up on a small Kansas dirt farm. Tom was the youngest of seven children. His father was a storyteller (as his father was, and his father before him). Tom's father and mother both worked hard to keep their family fed. At the end of a long day, his father would sit next to the old coal-burning stove and tell stories about growing up in the coalfields of southeast Kansas, and of his many adventures in life.
Tom learned the art of storytelling at an early age in life, and it can be heard in the stories and songs he writes today.
Tom has traveled across every state in the USA but two... Alaska and Hawaii. When asked why he hasn't visited those states yet, Tom just smiles and says: "I always leave the best for last, and my life is far from over."
Tom has looked down upon this old earth from the top of the Rocky Mountains. He has watched the sun rise and set over two oceans. He has traveled through the hot desert and walked upon the frozen ponds of the northland, but he has always returned to Kansas... the place where he hangs his hat.
Tom Tripp is the proud parent of 4 grown children , Jason , Chris , Nicole and Gina and a Grandfather of 4.
Story behind the song
Tommy A Dorsey - Take My Hand Precious Lord
As told by Mr. Dorsey:
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 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, once into my head the melody 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.
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.
Written by Tommy A. Dorsey (1899-1993)
He also composed: Peace In The Valley, The Old Ship of Zion,
Walk All Over God's Heaven, On The Battlefield and Search Me Lord.
Lyrics
Precious lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
Im tired, Im weak, Im 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 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
Im tired, Im weak, Im lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious lord, lead me home
