One time a cowboy stopped to pray when sunset skies were red:
"I know I ain't important, Lord, like some folks are," he said,

"But ridin' after cattle out here in this western land,
I try to set my saddle straight and try to wear your brand.

I ain't seen on Sunday's in those churches there in town,
but with your ancient temple of the outdoors all around,

I see your holy handiwork in flower, tree and grass,
and the glory of your sunset seems as holy as a mass.

Yet nature ain't the whole of it. At night when stars swing low,
I think about a special star that shone so long ago

in honor of a Holy Child whose birth turned out to be
the greatest blessing to the world throughout all history.

He came to bring peace to the hearts of all men of good will,
and when I think what price He paid up on Golgotha's hill,

my heart lifts up in gratitude. Although my words are weak
I hope somehow you'll hear at least a few of them I speak.

I ask no special favors, Lord, that's meant for me alone,
but here's the plea I'm trying to send up to your heavenly throne.

Don't let men's hearts be bitter, Lord, just do the best you can
to help your Son bring unto us the brotherhood of man!"