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A Cowboy's Prayer

Our gracious heavenly Father,

We pause in the midst of this festive occasion,
mindful and thoughtful of the guidance that you have given us.

As cowboys, Lord, we don't ask for any special favors,we ask only that you let us compete in this arena, as in lifes arena.We don't ask to never break a barrier, or to draw a round of steer that's hard to throw, or a chute fighting horse, or a bull that is impossible to ride.We only ask that you help us to compete as honest as the horses we ride and in a manner as clean and pure as the wind that blows across this great land of ours.

So when we do make that last ride that is inevitable for us all to make, to that place up there, where the grass is green and lush and stirrup high,and the water runs cool, clear, and deep-

You'll tell us as we ride in -- that our entry fees have been paid.

These things we ask -- Amen.

Clem McSpadden

Here's another Cowboy's Prayer

Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.

I loved 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 so open to the sky;

Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,

And I won't ask for a life that's soft or high.

Let me be as easy on the man that's down;

Let me be square and generous with all.

I'm careless sometimes, 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 thinks that are gall and fret;

You know better that my mother did.

Just keep and 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


Out where the handclasp's a little stronger,
Out where the smile dwells a little longer.
That's where the West begins;
Out where the sun is a little brighter,
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter,
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter,
That's where the West begins.

Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,
Out where the friendship's a little truer,
That's where the West begins.
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing,
Where there's laughter in every streamlet flowing,
Where there's more of reaping and less of sowing,
That's where the West begins.

Out where the world is making,
Where fewer hearts with despair are aching,
That's where the West begins;
Where there's more of singing and less of sighing,
Where there's more of giving and less of buying,
And a man makes friends without half trying,
That's where the West begins.

~Arthur Chapman