Church Going Folk

I'm a religous man, but I don't go to church I tried a few times, They said I wasn't welcome in the clothes I wore, I smelled of horse, my boots tracked mud. The Good Lord, apparently, likes His church folk clean I Smiled as sweet as can be, And told those folks that was just fine with me. I rode everyday in the Lords house, The wide open range. I was welcome there, Wether I had showered that day or not. And everyday, I felt the Lord whisper in my ear, Through a soft breeze. I heard Him answer my prayers, I saw what they had never seen, Witnessed the Lord start life, Bring it forth, And usher it back out again. I saw the wisdom in living the Lord gives, and I saw beauty beyond compare. I rode beside those who judged not, And judged them not myself. I told them clean church folk, I respect the Lords house, But I doubted it was He who refused me for want of good clothes, I saw Him everyday, and everyday He welcomed me, beneath warm sun and endless sky. But I would ask Him, when my time came, if His house was as clean as all that. Perhaps I'd put in a good word for those who'd refused me, in their ignorance. The Lords house is everywhere, I may not be indoors when I pray, But that just cuts the confusion, With no ceiling to muffle my prayers. I'm a religous man, But no church do I call mine, But the Lords wide open spaces, The beauty he created, No man made structure cases my prayers, and to no man do I bow, But everyday the Good Lord finds me in awe of his creation, An appreciation many folks fail to find indoors.