Post by Wyldcomfort on May 23, 2008 23:44:20 GMT -5
To those who gave their lives so that I might live free. SALUTE!!!
I found this poem on a plaque at a yard sale and felt it said quite eloquently what is so often left unspoken. Our gratitude for the soldiers who have given their lives so that our country, towns, friends and families might sleep in peace each night. For they are guarding us this night as they do every night.
The Final Inspection
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass, He hoped his hsoes 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 unmaly 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."
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass, He hoped his hsoes 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 unmaly 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."
I found this poem on a plaque at a yard sale and felt it said quite eloquently what is so often left unspoken. Our gratitude for the soldiers who have given their lives so that our country, towns, friends and families might sleep in peace each night. For they are guarding us this night as they do every night.