Lead Me Home: A Song for Tough Times

Tommy grew up in church, but went in a different direction.

But in the 1920s, he was famous for his ability as a jazz and blues musician.

He played in big clubs in St. Louis, Chicago, and Detroit. He was even a featured performer for Louis Armstrong.

But when it all seemed good, his life crumbled.

In 1932, his wife, Nettie, discovered she was pregnant, and Tommy was overjoyed.

He kept playing until one night.

He received a call from the club where he was playing in St. Louis. The stage manager grabbed the receiver and shouted, “Hey, Tommy, the phone’s for you, and it sounds important.”

What Tommy heard next chilled his bones.

His wife had gone into a difficult labor, and they said he should get back to Chicago as soon as possible.

He got the first train and rushed to the hospital. When he arrived, a doctor told him he had a new baby, but his wife had died in delivery. The next day, the child died.

Tommy could not play again…at least for a while. He became silent and morose.

He did not know if he could believe in God anymore.

One day, he sat on a piano stool staring into space. The room was dark, as it had been since his world had gone dark. But, a small shaft of light streamed in from a crack in the curtain. Something was changing.

Tommy touched the piano keys as words poured into his mind and soul.

From that experience came a song.

It was the favorite of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He asked Tommy to play it for him on April 2, 1986, while he sat in a Memphis hotel. The next day, an assassin’s bullet would claim King’s life.

He went on to have great fame and is in the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

But it was that song, born out of sorrow, sung to a man destined for an assassin’s bullet, that became his trademark.

Thomas Dorsey wrote the words:

Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand—I am tired, I am weak, I am worn; thro’ the storm, thro’ 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 life is almost gone. Hear my cry, hear my call, hold my hand lest I fall—Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

Sometimes in life, those are the only words that make sense.

When life grows tense and barren.

When loneliness settles over us as a shadow.

When we have no fight left in us.

We can only say, “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me home.”

Never forget. Ask the Lord to take your hand in the worst of life.