A Cowboy's Prayer

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 life's 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 WEST BEGINS

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

A Horses Prayer

I pray thee, Master, to care for me through long
winter days and nights when I cannot earn my keep. Feed me and water
me, and give me a good warm bed, that I may keep well, and duly repay all
your kindness when Trail Riding season returns once more.  Treat me
kindly, and do not beat me when I do not understand what you want me to do,
but watch me, please, and see if I might not be ill...my back, shoulders,
or feet be sore. Remember that I cannot go my own way, but must obey
your commands, My Master, and that I serve you well and faithfully to the
best of my ability. Please, Master, have mercy on me. Protect
me from the hot sun, the fall rain, and winters' ice and snow. Remember
that horses have long been the servants of man throughout the ages. We
have pulled the prairie schooners from sea to shining sea. Plowed the
new fields, that man might grow the food to keep body and soul together.
 We helped build the mighty railroads; stayed with the cowboy through
his long night watch under the lonely stars. We died heroically with
man on the battlefield of nations.  I shall do my part, for I have learned
to love thee well. So, my Master, when I am old , and can no longer
perform on the trail, and thus serve profitably, please do not turn me out
to starve, or sell me to some cruel man.  Just let me die at the beloved
hands of my Master, and God will bless thee well.  I do not think this
is irreverent, if I ask this in the name of He who was born in a stable.

In Loving Memory of
"Sar Bellerophon"
who brought Peace, Serenity, Love,
& Wisdom to all who know him.
El  Shaddai Arabians
I found this on the inside cover of a horse catalog called Seven Bar

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