Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1892-09-14
ST. Peter at the Gate.
BY JOSEPH BEET SMILEY

st. Peter ut the Gate.
by JOSEPH BERT SMILEY.
st. Peter stood at the golden gate
With solemn mein and air scdate,
When up to the top of the golden stair
A man and q woman. ascending there,
Applied for admission. They came and stood
Before st. Peter, so great and good,
In hopes the city of peace to win,
And asked st. Peter to let them III.
The woman was tall, and lank, and thin,
With a scraggy beardlet upon her chin,
The man was short and thick and stout
His stomach was built SO it rounded out,
His face was pleasant, and all the while
He wore 4 kindly, gentle smile.
The choirs in the distance the echoes woke
And the man kept still while the woman
spoke.
-'oh, thou who guardest the gate, said she,
we two come hither beseeching thee
To let us enter the heavenly land
And play our harps with the angel band;
or me, St Peter there is no doubt,
There's nothing from Heaven to bar me out,
I've been TO meeting three times week,
And almost always I'd rise and speak.
I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent of their evil way.
Bout Adam and Eve, and the primal fall
I've shown them what they'd have to do
If they'd pass in with the chosen few.
I've marked their path of duty clear
Laid out the plan for their whole career.
I've talked and talked to them loud and long
For my lungs are good and my voice Is strong ;
SO, good st. Potter you'll clearly see,
The gate of Heaven is open for ne.
But my old man, | regret to say,
Hasn't walked in exactly the narrow way"
He smokes and he swears, and grave faults
he's got,
Aud don't know whether he'll pass or not
Tic never would pray with an earnest vim,
Or go to revival, or join in hymn,
So had to leave him in sorrow there.
While I, with the chosen, united in prayer.
He ate what the pantry chanccd 10 afford,
While l, in my purity, sang to the Lord,
And if cucumbers We're all he got
It's chance if he mcrited them or not.
But oh, St Peter, l love him so
To the pleasures of Heaven please let him go
I've done enough saint I've been;
Won't that atone? Can't you let him i'll?
By my grim gospel l know It's so,
That the unrepentant must fry below.
But isn't there some way you can sec
That he may enter who's dear TO me?
It's narrow gospel by which pray,
But the chosen expect to lind some way
OF coaxing or fooling, or bribng you,
So that their relations can amble through;
And say, St Peter, ii seems to me.
This gate isn't kept aS IL ought 10 be.
You ought to stand rghtat the opening there,
And never Sit down in that easy chair
And say. St. Peter, my sight is dimmcd
But don't like the way your whiskcrS are
trimmed.
They are cut too wide, and outward toss;
They'd look better narrow, cut straight across.
Well, we must be going, our crown to win
So open, ST. Peter and we'll pass in.
ST. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff,
But, spite OF his office. he had To laugh,
Then said, with fiery CLEAN in his eye.
who's tending this gateway You or 2
And then he arose in his stature tall,
And pressed a button upon the wall.
And said to the imp that answered the bell,
Escort this lady around TO He'll
Slowly the man turned by habit bent,
To follow wherever the woman went;
st. Peter, standing on duty there,
Observed that the top OF his head was bare;
He called the gentleman back and said,
Friend how long have You been wed Z?
Thirty years with q weary sigh
And then he thoughtfully added, why"
st. Peter was silent With head bent down
He raised his hand and scratched his crown.
Then seeming a different thought TO take.
Slowly half to himself, he Spake.
Thirty years with that woman there Z?
No wonder the man hasn't any hair;
Swearing is wicked. Smoking not good,
10 smoked and he sworc-I should think he
would,
Thirty years with that tongue so sharp?
Ho Angel Gabriel, give him n harp.
A jcweled harp, with golden string.
Good sir pass in where the angels sing.
Gabriel, give him a seat alone
One with cushion-up near the throne.
Gallup some angels 20 play their best,
Let him enjoy the music and rest.
Sec that on finest ambrosia he feeds,
He's had about all the He'll he needs
II isn't just hardly the thing TO do,
To roast him on carth-in the future toe
They gave him harp with golden strings
A glittcring robe and pair of wings
He said. as he entered the Realm of Day,
'Wcll, this beats cucumberS. anyway"
And so the Scripture had come to pass,
Ill H., nj tln cl,nll