|
>
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 judgement 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.'
|
