A Cowboy's Prayer
Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.
   I love creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
   And looked up on Your work and called it good.

I know that others find You in the light
   That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
   In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.

I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
   That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock , or bell,
   Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.

Just let me live my life as I've begun
   and give me work that's open to the sky;
Make me a partner of the wind and sun,
   And I won't ask a life that's soft and high.

Let me be easy on the man that's down;
   Let me be square and generous with all.
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town.
   But never let 'em say I'm mean or small.

Make me as big and open as the plains,
   As honest as the hawse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
   Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze.

Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
   You know the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
   You know me better than my mother did.

Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
   And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead
   That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.       
by Badger Clark
In Loving Memory of Steven H. Connelly
 
        December 26, 1920 - November 16, 2000
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1