"High Lonesome"

It’s called an old high lonesome,

When a cowboy rides away,

To get alone and spend some time,

With just his thoughts and pray.

He’ll saddle his best pony,

One he never has to fight,

He might leave early mornin’,

Or even late one night.

Trot up those high ridges,

Or down a canyon deep,

Find a grassy place to camp,

And in his bedroll sleep.

He’ll lie there by the embers,

Of his glowing, dying fire,

Lookin’ at the stars above,

And think of his desire,

To always be a cowboy,

What else could he be,

And think of how the Good Lord,

Has finally helped him see,

That all his many choices,

Whether righteous ones or bad,

God will work together,

For good and not for sad.

And he knows he’s a sinner,

But he is saved by grace,

He just seeks to be sure,

He can finish well his race.

And if you try to call him,

He’s so far off the grid,

That you just cannot reach him,

Way off and so well hid.

He’s breathing, praying, resting,

Listening to the wind,

He’s thinking of the future,

Thanks God for where He’s been.

Jesus even did it,

He took the time to rest,

Alone there with the Father,

So He could be His best.

Maybe an old high lonesome,

Is something we all need,

To let go all our troubles,

And let the Spirit lead.

“Jesus said, ‘Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile…’” (Mark 6:31, NLT)

Art by Jack Sorenson, jacksorensonfineart.com. Used by permission. Thanks, Jack, and God bless you.