[naturaleigh]

This was sent to me this morning and the first person I though of was Marie. I hope this is not a bad time to post this, but it is a reminder that God is always with us, even in our darkest hour. Marie and Ed, my prayers and thoughts are with you.

THE BIRTH OF THE SONG 'PRECIOUS LORD'

Back in 1932, I was 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.
< strong>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. I20hesitated 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 steamingSt.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 betwe en grief and joy. Yet that same 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 anymore 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 toSt.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 one friend. The following Saturday evening he took me up to Maloney'sPoro 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 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.'

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.

-Tommy

Dorsey-




For those too young to know who he is, Tommy Dorsey was a band leader in the Thirties and Forties.

Did you know that Tommy Dorsey wrote this song?

I surely didn't. What a wonderful story of how God CAN heal the brokenhearted! Beautiful, isn't it?