The Final Inspection

The soldier stood and faced God, which must always come to pass.

He hoped his shoes were shining 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;

Sometimes I've been violent, because this world is awfully rough.

But I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep...

Though I've worked a lot of overtime, when the bills just got too steep.

And I've 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've never wanted me around, except to calm their fear.

If you've a place for me here, Lord, it needn't be so grand.

I've never expected or had much; But if you don't I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne where the saints 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 in heaven's streets, you've done your time in hell.

Author Unknown


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