The Final Inspection

The soldier stood and faced his god, which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining just as bright as his brass.
"Step forward 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 work 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 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 have wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place among the people here.
They've 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. 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 on Heaven's streets, you've done your time in hell."