Morning, Lord | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Morning, Lord | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ann Stocking
05/07/15
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Morning, Lord, and thank You,
For I met this day still breathing,
The sun arising, chirping birds,
Set my spirit reeling.
Thank You for the dewdrops
You sprinkled on the ground,
The grassy hills, Your footprints,
In the mountains that surround,

I hope I’m not imposing;
I know there’s plenty others,
Weary, broke, and poorly,
Those who hurt and suffer.
Lay Your gentle hand on them,
I ask You; give them ease,
And when You have a moment,
I’d like a favour, please.

I’m sorry I’ve kept shy of church
And holding back my wealth.
I sometimes get to bragging,
Thinking highly of myself.
Forgive me my wrongdoings,
When I’m not so good and true,
Whittle down my pride until
I’m someone You can use.

Might You go before me,
Keep my pony’s feet secure,
No badger holes to trip him up,
No rocks and stones obscured.
Hold me tightly in the saddle, Lord,
Don’t let me hit the dust,
Keep a strong hand on my shoulder,
Shoving, if You must.

Help me see the breaches,
When the fence is broke and busted,
Give me strength to hammer up,
The wires that got rusted.
Heedful of the clouds o’erhead,
And never to complain,
For the clouds that cast a shadow
Also bring the needed rain.

Like You done for Daniel,
Shut the mouths of wolves and bears,
Lest they get a fondness
For the cattle in my care.
Keep my voice hushed and low,
As I lead to greener pastures,
For yelling never does the job,
And slower’s always faster.

You know how children go their way,
Iron-willed and balky,
Choosing paths not good for them,
Dangerous and rocky.
So it is with bovine souls,
Contrary and defiant,
I’m asking for direction, Lord,
I need Your trusty guidance.

Eating weeds and poison blooms,
Apt to make them ail,
Hiding in the timber
When I’m herding on the trail.
Gazing with their witless eyes,
But wily with deception.
Yet, for all their silly foolishness,
I regard them with affection.

I hope I haven’t asked too much,
Or cause You any trouble,
You’re the One I’m counting on
To help me through each muddle.
You own the cattle on these hills;
Their hides display Your brand,
I’m just a lowly cowboy,
A humble hired hand.

Have Yourself a fine day, Lord,
Take it easy, if You can.
You must be pretty tuckered out
Watching over man.
Daylight is a-burning now,
And I’ve got work to do.
It’s been a pleasure chatting, Lord,
And spending time with You,

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