THE FINAL INSPECTION
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step foward now, you soldier,
How shall i deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?"
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Cant always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasnt mine to keep...
Though I worked alot of overtime,
When the bill got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at time I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unwomanly tears.
I know I don't derserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me here,
Except to calm thier fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't I'll understand."
There was a silence all around the Throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgement of his God.
"Step forward now, you soldier,
You've done your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
