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"The Final Inspection"

The soldier stood and faced his God,
 
Which must always come to pass;
He hoped his shoes were shining bright,
Just as brightly as his brass.
 
"Step forward now, soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
 
Have you 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 rough;
 
I've had to break your rules my Lord,
 
Because the world is awfully tough.
 
But, I never took a thing
 
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 often trod;
 
As the soldier waited quietly,
 
For the judgement of his God.
 
"Step forward now, soldier,
 
You've borne your burdens well;
 
Come walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
 
You've done your time in HELL!"








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