The Last Inspection

The soldier stood and faced his God
This has always come to pass.
He hoped his boots 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 ways 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 is really tough.

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, Lord, forgive me,
For I have 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 have a place here for me Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I have never expected; nor 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 judgment of his God.

“Step forward now, brave soldier,
You have borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You have done your time in Hell.”