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This Cowboy's Prayer

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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 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 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 hoss 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 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 the Great Divide.