Precious Lord, Take My Hand

 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 life 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 light 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.
George N. Allen

 Questions for prayerful thought:

Why does the hymnwriter believe that the Lord will respond when he asks the Lord to take his hand?

 Do you think dying is scary? Does the hymnwriter think dying is scary? What worries the hymnwriter about the approach of death?
To what is the writer referring when he says, “the light draws near?”

Why does the writer speak of standing beside a river?

How does the writer relate the infinite and eternal realm of God to his own world in time and space?