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A Cowboys Prayer

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( Written for Mother )

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 upon Your work and called it good.

 

I know that others find you in te 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 to 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 pardner of the wind and sun,

And I won't ask a life that's soft or 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 about he 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 time, sometimes when I turn aside,

And guide me on that long dim trail ahead

That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

BADGER  CLARK

Y'all come back now ya hear!