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, said “No Lord, guess I ain’t. Cos those of us who carry guns, can’t always be a saint. I’ve had to work most Sundays, at times my talk was tough. And sometimes I’ve been violent, the world is really quite 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. I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes God forgive me, I have wept many a tear. If you have a place for me Lord, it needn’t be so grand. I don’t expect or want too much, but 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 burdens well. Walk peacefully on Heaven’s streets, you’ve done your time in Hell