Cowboy Poets & Writers

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.

Evening Grace on the Range

Written by Cowboy Evangelist Rev. Joseph Holmes

The sun dips low, a final fiery gleam, Another day concludes, a fading dream. My trusty horse, now watered, brushed, and fed, Safe in his stall, a soft and cozy bed. I close the gate, the wind begins to bite, And feel the first soft flakes of coming night. They swirl and dance, a silent, gentle fall, As winter's hush begins to cover all.

Into the bunkhouse, weary steps I make, My hat on hook, for goodness gracious sake. These dusty boots, they've trod a mile or more, Now off they come, upon the wooden floor. The fire's glow, a comfort in the chill, My spirit settles, quiet, calm, and still. I take my seat, the day's hard labor done, And turn my thoughts to God, the Holy One.

For every sunrise, painting skies anew, For strength to…

The wind came howling cross the range, A blizzard fierce and wild and strange, My horse was stumbling, losing ground, No trail, no shelter to be found.

I'd been riding hard for years, Chasing gold and drowning fears, Lost in more ways than the storm— My soul was weary, broke, and worn.

The snow was blinding, cold as death, Ice was stealing every breath, When through the white I saw Him there, A rider with a gentle air.

His eyes were kind, His smile was warm, He calmed the fury of the storm, "I know you're lost," He softly said, "But son, I'll guide you home instead."

"I don't deserve Your help," I cried, "I've wandered far, I've lived in pride, I've turned my back on holy ground— A sinner's all that can be found."

But Jesus smiled and shook His head, "That's why I came, that's why I bled,…

Steam rises from my coffee cup, As dawn breaks soft and still, Snow blankets all the valley wide, Down from the distant hill.

I stand here on this weathered porch, My boots upon the wood, And watch my horses at their hay, Content and warm and good.

The barn stands strong against the white, A sentinel of grace, And in this quiet, holy hour, I seek my Savior’s face.

Lord, thank You for another dawn, Another breath to take, Another chance to ride these hills, Another day to break.

Thank You for this cowboy life, These blessings I don’t earn, The horses nickering soft and low, The lessons that I learn.

The snow that fell while I was safe, Asleep beneath Your eye, The coffee warming up my hands, The peace of morning sky.