That Big Brown Mule

Well here I am, at work again, I shuffle my papers and pick up my pen. I answer the phone and sort the mail, But my heart is out on a rocky trail.
Far from my office and all this mess, way up there in the wilderness. Where the air is pure and a mite bit cool, where I climb the slope, on that big brown mule.
Paul moves out and takes the lead, riding his faithful Arab steed. Close behind him here comes Joe, say look up there at all that snow.
Last in line but not the least, I’m riding on that long eared beast. The slopes are bright with beargrass and yarrow, dear me this trail looks awful narrow.
We round a curve on the very edge, of a very, very narrow ledge. A little slip and the rocks do tumble, it’s a long way down if the horses stumble.
We walk our mounts, a little slow, and gape at the canyon far below. That steep walled chasm is quite a fright, and I see those riders leaning right.
But faithful mule he has no fear, he simply shifts to a lower gear. And on we go midst great fir trees, enjoying the view and the mountain breeze.
With sky so blue, and air so clear, old Mount Jeff seems oh so near. Twelve hooves they plod the rocky ground, to a horseman’s heart a peaceful sound.
This land is old there’s nothing new, but what’s this now that comes in view? Out of the trees, or horses plod, clomping over the rocky sod.
And a beautiful sight we see below, a consequence of glacial snow. Icy lakes of blue and green, meadows too and a rushing stream. A wondrous sight our eyes behold, formed by the Master’s hand of old.
Such beauty simply, shows His love, sent down to us from up above. He made it all that we might see, the love He has for you and me.
But more than this He’s truly done, to save our souls he sent His Son. For man’s real need He could not fill, with rock and tree and flowered hill.
We cross the stream where it looks best, our horses ready for a rest. We tie our mounts, in a grassy spot, by shady firs where it’s not too hot.
Our lunch is simple just like theirs, but ours we start, with heartfelt prayers. In thanks for all that we have seen, the mountains high and valleys green. We thank Him too for this our food, we thank Him first for He is good.
Before we turn and homeward bound, there’s still some time to see more ground. And as we through these hills do roam, we think about our final home.
It’s just a glimpse that we see here, of our eternal home up there. I’m thankful for each hill and tree, that tells me of His love for me. The flowers bright the air so cool, and my old pal, that big brown mule.