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"Enya"
To Thee, my master, I offer my prayer.
Feed me, water and care for me, and when the day's work is done, provide me with shelter, a clean, dry bed and stall wide enough for me to lie down in comfort.
Always be kind to me. Your voice often means as much to me as the reins. Never strike, beat, or kick me when I don't understnad what you want, but give me the chance to understand you. Pet me sometimes, that I may serve you the more gladly and learn to love you.
Make sure that I am properly shod that I may serve you in comfort.
And finally, Oh My Master, when my useful strength is gone, do not turn me out to starve or freeze or sell me to some cruel owner to be slowly tortured and starved to death; but do thou, My master, take my life in the kindest way and your God will reward you here and hereafter. You will not consider me irreverent if I ask this in the name of Him who was born in a stable.
AMEN
Author Unknown
A Cowboy's Prayer
by
Badger Clark
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 whistles, 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 wind and sun
And I won't ask for life that's soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that's down
Let me be fair 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 horse between my knees.
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles the breeze.
Forgive me, Lord, if I sometimes forget,
You know 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 or 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.
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