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Praise Him
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
When your heart troubles you, remember.
When you feel sad or lonely, remember.
When you need a true friend, remember.
When you are very heavy laden, remember.
Remember who came to give you rest.
Remember who gives you life forever.
Remember who died upon the cross for you.
Remember who shed His blood for our sins.
When you need direction and guidance, ask.
When you need help and healing, ask.
When you feel lost and need repentance, ask.
When you are faced with any problem, ask.
Ask and the way will be made straight.
Ask and the door will be opened.
Ask and it will be given willingly.
Ask and life will be given abundantly.
For the daily sunlight you walk in, praise Him.
For the food which nourishes your strength, praise Him.
For the sleep which renews you each morning, praise Him.
Praise Him in all things for thrice Holy is His Name.
Praise Him for He alone is found worthy.
Praise Him for He is exalted in Heaven and Earth.
Praise Him for all Honor and Glory as His forever and ever.
Amen
The Cowboy
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
At the age of sixteen,
He was tall, hard and lean
As he began his long-dreamed-of quest.
On an old swayback nag,
He’d push, pull or drag.
He followed the setting sun west.
By a lightning-bolt chance,
He found work on a ranch
Where he grew into a man.
He worked hard every day
For very little pay,
But always he rode for the brand.
He worked for thirty and found,
As he glanced around town,
And strolled into the Lady Luck Saloon.
He ordered Rot-Gut-Red,
You know the fiery kind
That has to be sipped from a spoon.
When he was right,
He wouldn’t back down,
Never a question of budgin’.
If a man disagreed,
He could go for his gun —
Old Sam Colt would do the judgin’!
He learned to live by his word
As he helped round up the herd —
A cowboy’s life is sure tough!
He learned about whiskey,
Women and cards —
Why, he even learned to dip snuff!
On a north-bound trail,
Headed towards Kansas rail,
They sweated and worked without rest.
The deck was stacked
When the redskins attacked,
And he heard their loud, piercing yells.
O’er noise of bawling cattle,
Came sounds of the battle.
He clutched an arrow buried deep in his chest.
They found a six-gun by his hand,
His blood mixed with the land —
His dying words, “Tell ’em I done my best!”
Where the buffalo roam,
The young cowboy makes home,
A cross by a small bubbling stream.
He’s rode his last hoss,
And he’s roped his last steer,
But he’s fulfilled both his quest and dream!
wfosterwelborn 