The Final Inspection
Author unknown
The soldier stood and faced god, which always must come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining, just as bright as his brass.
"Step forward, 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 rough.
And sometimes I've been violent, because the world's awfully tough."
"But I never took a penny, that wasn't mine to keep,
Though I worked a lot of overtime, when the bills just got 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 too grand.
I never expected or had too much. But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was 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 borne your burden well.
Walk peacefully in heaven's streets, you've done your time in hell."
