[DarkHeart]

The soldier stood and faced his 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 aint, 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' 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 dont deserve a place, among the people here. They never wanted me around, except to clam 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 dont i'll understand'.

There was a silence all around the throne, were 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 peacfully on heavens streets, you've served your time in hell........

Lest we forget