FreeLists / bristol-birds / [Bristol-Birds] Fw: The Birth of the song "Precious Lord"

["greg evans" <fishorama50@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Greg


> From: "patsy" <patjohn@xxxxxxxxx>
> To: "Shirley Cobb" <gscobb@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>, <Lcwm4@xxxxxxx>,   "Kay 
> Prince" <kayprince@xxxxxxxxxx>, <jeffhuggins@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>,   "greg evans" 
> <fishorama50@xxxxxxxxxxx>,   "Frances Hendershot" <fhendershot@xxxxxxxxxx>, 
>   "debbie mason" <debilyn41@xxxxxxxxx>, <CSFRICKER@xxxxxxx>
> Subject: Fw: The Birth of the song "Precious Lord"
> Date: Thu, 25 Aug 2005 18:02:59 -0500
>
> Blank
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: Nancy Frye
> To: patsy
> Sent: Monday, August 22, 2005 9:17 PM
> Subject: FW: The Birth of the song "Precious Lord"
>
>
>
>
> Subject: The Birth of the song "Precious Lord"
>
>
> Here's something I never knew about this song.
>
> THE BIRTH OF THE SONG "PRECIOUS LORD"
>
> 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, words came 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
>
> Did you know that Tommy Dorsey wrote this song?
>
>
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>
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