Oh Lord, I've never lived where chuches grow.
I love the creation beter 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 window panes,
and yet I seem to feel You near tonight
in this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
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 them say I'm mean or small!
Make me 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!
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 for a life that's soft or high.
Forgive me Lord, if I sometimes 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 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