The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1898-04-03
ST. Peter at the Gate.

st. Peter stood guard at the golden gate,
With a solemn mien and an air sedate,
When up to the top of the golden stair
A man and a woman ascending there.
Applied for admission. They came and stood
In hopes the City Of Peace to win.
And asked st. Peter to let them in.
The woman was tall, and lank. and thin,
With a scragey beardlet about her chin.
The man was short. and thick. and stout:
His stomach was built so II rounded out
His face was pleasant. and all the while
He wore a kindly and genial smile.
The choirs in the distance the echoes woke.
And the man kept still while the woman spoke.
"oh. thou who guards 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.
OF me. st. Peter. there is no doubt.
There's nothing from heaven to bar me out.
I've been to meetings three times a 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 FAN.
I've shown them what they'd have to do
i've marked their path of duty clear
Laid out the plan for their whole career.
i've talked and talked to EN- loud and long.
For my lungs are good and my voice is strong.
SO. good st. Peter. you'll Clearly see,
But my old man, 1 regret to say,
Hasn't walked in exactly the narrow way.
He smokes and he swears. and grave faults he's got
And I don't know whether he'll pass or not.
He never would pray with an earnest vim,
Or 60 to revival or join in a hymn.
So / had to leave him in sorrow there
While I with the chosen United in prayer.
While 1. in my purity. sang to the Lord;
And IL cucumbers were all he got,
It's a chance il he merited them or not.
But. oh. st. Peter. I love him so,
To the pleasures of heaven please let him go!
I've done enough. a saint I've been,
Won't that atone? Can't you let him in?
BY my grim gospel I know tits so
That the unrepentants must fry below;
But isn't there some way you can see
That he may enter who's dear to me?
It's a narrow gospel by Which / pray.
But the chosen expect to find some way
OF coaxing. or fooling, or bribing you.
So that their relations may amble through.
And. saw. st. Peter, it seems to me.
This gate isn't kept as 1t ought to be.
You ought to stand right by the opening there,
And never sit down in that easy chair.
And. say, st. Peter, my sig hit is dimmed.
But I don't like the way Your whiskers are trimmed
They'd look better narrow. cut straight across.
Well. we must be going our crowns to win,
So open. st. Peter, and We II pass in"
st. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff.
But. in spite of his Office, he had to laugh.
Then said. with a fiery CLEAN in his eye:
And then he rose in his stature tall.
And pressed a button upon the wall.
And said to an imp who Came all aglow:
Escort this woman to the regions below"
The man stood still as a piece of stone
Stood sadly, gloomily. there alone.
A lifelong settled idea he had
That his wife was good and he was bad.
That he would certainly have to go;
That IL she went to the re gions dim
There wasn't the ghost Of show for him.
Slowly he 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?"
Thirty years" with a 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?
No wonder the man hasn't any hair,
Swearing is wicked: smokes not good.
He smoked and swore| should think he would.
Thirty years with that tongue so sharp!
Oh! Angel Gabriel! Give him a harp,
A jeweled harp, with a golden string.
Good sir, pass i'm where the angels sing!
Gabriel, give him a seat alone
One with a cushion-up near the throne!
Call up some angels to play their best.
Let him enjoy the music-and rest,
See that on the finest Am brosia he feeds;
He's had about all the nell ne needs.
1t isn't Just hardly the hing to do
To roast him on earth and the future, too"
They gave him a harp with golden strings,
A glitterine robe and a pair of wings.
And he said as he entered the Realm OF Day:
well. this beats cucumbers. anyway"
And so the scriptures had come to pass.
The last shall be first, and the first shall be last"