A Cowboy’s Prayer

by PINKNEY R. FENLEY

O Lord I’ve never lived where churches grow,
I love creation better as it stood,
the 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 filters down through tinted window frames;
And yet I seem to feel you near tonight,
in this dim quiet starlight on the plains.

I thank you Lord that I am place so well,
that you have made my freedom so complete;
that I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
or weakened prisoner of wall or 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 to 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,
and make me square and generous with all;
I’m careless sometimes Lord,
when I’m in town.

But never let them say I’m mean or small,
make me as big and open as the plains;
as honest as the horse between my knees,
clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
free as the hawk that circles down the breeze.

Forgive me Lord, when I sometimes forget,
you understand the reasons that are hid.
You know the little things that gall and threat,
you know me better than my mother did.

Just keep an eye on all that’s done and said,
just right me sometimes when I turn aside,
and guide me on the long dim trail ahead;
that stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

Kenneth D. Davis

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Last modified 22 Jun 2005