- Posts: 27
- Joined: 21 Aug 2008 20:03
- Location: Namibia
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 peeny,
That was not 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 Lord,
It needn`t be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don`t, I will 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 have done your time in Hell.