The warrior stood and faced God,

Which will always come to pass,

He hoped his shoes were shining,

Just as brightly as his brass.


"Step forward now, old warrior,

How shall I deal with you?

Have you always turned the other cheek?

To my Church have you been true?"


The warrior squared his shoulders and

said, "No Lord, I guess I ain't.

Cause 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'd been violent,

'Cause 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'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. In life

I didn't expect or need too much,

So if you don't, I'll Understand."


There was a silence all around the Throne,

Where the saints had often trod,

As the warrior stood quietly.

For the judgement of his God.


"Step forward now, my warrior,

You have born your burdens well,

Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,

You've Done your time in Hell.


Unknown Author



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