Lord, I′ve Never Lived Where Churches Grow I Loved
Creation Better As It Stood That Day You Finished
It So Long Ago And Looked Upon Your Work
And Called It Good I Know That Others
Find You In The Light That Sifted Down Through
Tinted Window Panes And Yet I Seem To Feel
You Near Tonight In This Dim, Quiet Starlight On
The Plains I Thank You, Lord, That I'm
Placed So Well That You′ve Made My Freedom So
Complete That I'm No Slave To Whistle, Clock Or
Bell Nor Weak Eyed Prisoner Of Waller Street
Just Let Me Live My Life As I've Begun
And Give Me Work That′s Open To The Sky
Make Me A Partner Of The Wind And Sun
And I Won′t Ask A Life That's Soft Or
High Let Me Be Easy On The Man
That′s Down Let Me Be Square And Generous With
All I'm Careless Sometimes, Lord, When I′m In Town
But Never Let 'em Say I′m Mean Or Small
Make Me As Big And Open As The
Plains And Honest As The Horse Between My Knees
Clean As A Wind That Blows Behind The Rains
Free As The Hawk That Circles Down The Breeze
Forgive Me, Lord, If Sometimes I Forget You
Know About The Reasons That Are Hid You Understand
The Things That Gall Or Fret Well, You Knew
Me Better Than My Mother Did Just Keep
An Eye On All That's Done And Said And
Right Me Sometimes When I Turn Aside And Guide
Me On That Long, Dim Trail Ahead That Stretches
Upward Toward The Great Divide Oh, Bury Me
Not On The Lone Prairie These Words Came Low
And Mournfully From The Pallid Lips Of A Youth
Who Lay On His Dying Bed At The Close
Of Day Oh, Bury Me Not And His
Voice Failed There But We Took No Heed To
His Dying Prayer In A Shallow Grave Just Six
By Three We Buried Him There On The Lone
Prairie