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 forward 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,
Can't 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 wasn't mine to keep...
Though I  worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too  steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times  I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept  unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the  people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their  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 judgment of his God.

'Step forward now,  you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully  on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in  Hell.'

Author Unknown~

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