Cowboy Poets & Writers

The Heavenly Brand

I laid my head on my saddle bag beneath the midnight moon My body tired from working hard, hummin' a quiet tune The dusty trail just faded out, the earthly wind stood still And suddenly I found myself upon the Master's Hill

I didn't see no devil's herd with eyes of burning red I saw a thousand head of steers, They were belly-deep in the greenest grass I ever saw, the heard is the best I’d ever seen Grazing on that heavenly range.

The riders there were shining bright, no sweat upon their brow They weren't chasing strays to hell, they rode in glory now They moved along in harmony, their horses strong and white Guided by the Savior's love, that shines pure morning light

One rider stopped and tipped his hat to me, when I seen his face was full of grace I recognized the kindness…

He Didn't Quit on You 

Written by Cowboy Evangelist Rev. Joseph Holmes

Produced by H C Cowboy Ministries

I rode past a silent homestead where the walls were tumbling down, Where the dreams of those who built it lay scattered on the ground. The weeds had took the garden and the gate was swinging wide, A monument to quitting where the hope had dried and died.

It got me thinking 'bout the Lord and the trail He had to ride, With the weight of all our sinfulness packed heavy on His side. He could have called the angels down and left us to our fate, He could have dropped the saddle at the Garden’s rusty gate.

They beat Him and they mocked Him and they nailed Him to the wood, But He didn't quit the mission, though He surely could have stood. He saw the herd was drifting toward the…

The Drifter’s Cure

I kicked the dust and looked away, feeling worn and tired, Said, "I think I’ll pack it up today, my patience has expired. The days are long, the ground is hard, the pay ain't worth the pain, I'm sick of breakin' colts and pushin' steers in freezing rain. I think I’ll roll my bedding up and drift to somewhere new, Find a range where grass is tall and skies are always blue."

I laid my heavy burden on that old cowboy right there, The one who’d worked the cattle with the silver in his hair. I waited for his blessing, or a word to bid me go, To tell me there was better grass where warmer breezes blow. But he just leaned against the rail and fixed me with a stare, And spoke the kind of gospel truth that stripped my spirit bare.

"I know that itch,"…

by Cowboy Evangelist Joseph Holmes

Before the dawn breaks cold and clear, I saddle up without no fear, My boots are worn, my rope is frayed, But honest work's how debts are paid.

I mend the fence, I chase the stray, I ride the trail 'fore break of day, Though dust and sweat may cloud my eyes, I'm working for a higher prize.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, As working for the Lord, not for human masters." —Colossians 3:23

These cattle ain't just mine to tend, This broken gate ain't mine to mend, Each nail I drive, each rope I throw, Is for the One who made it so.