Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1901-07-25
st. Peter at the Gate.

(From the Rocky Mountain Herald-)
St. Peter stood guard at the golden gate
With solemn mien and an air sedate,
When up TO the top of the golden stair
a man and woman ascending there,
Applied for admission. They came and stoo'
Before St. Peter, SO great and good.
In hopes the CIty of Peace to win
And asked ST. Peter to let them IN.
The woman was tail, and lank and thin,
With scraggy beardlet upon her chin
The man was short, and thick, and stout,
His stomach was built so il rounded ont.
His face was pleasant, and all the while
He wore kindly and genial smile.
The choir IN the distance the echoes woke,
And the man kept still while the woman spoke
so thou who guardest the gate said she,
''We two come hither, beseeching thee
To let rs enter the heavenly land,
And play our harps with the angel band.
OF me, St. Peter, there is no doubt,
There's nothing in heaven to bar me out.
I've been TO meetings three times a week,
And almost always I'd rise to speak.
I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent their evil way.
I've told my neighbors-I'ye told 'em all
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 of their whole career.
I've talked and talked TO 'em loud and long,
For my lungs are good, and mo voice IS
strong.
So good ST. Peter you'll clearly see
The gate Of heaven Is open 10 me.
But my old mans regret to say,
Hasn't walked in exactly the narrow way.
He smokes and he swears, and grave faults
he's got,
And 1 don't know whether he'll pass or not
He 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 chanced to afford,
While I. in my purity, sang to the Lord;
And if Cucumbers were all he got,
It's chance if he merited them or not.
But oh, ST. Peter, love him so!
To the pleasures of heaven please let him go.
I've done enough saint I've been,
Mont that atone? Can't you let him IN!
By my grim gospel, 1 know It's so
That the unrepentant must fry below.
But isn't there some way you can see
That he may enter who's dear to me?
It's narrow gospel by which pray
But the Chosen expect to find some way
)f coaxing, OF foOling, or bribing you
50 that their relations can amble through.
And say, St Peter, it seems to me
This gate isn't kept as it ought to be.
iou ought to stand by that opening there
And never sit down in the easy chair.
And say, St. Peter, my eyes are dimmed
But don't Ike the way your whiskers are
trimmed;
They're cut too wide, and outward toss;
They'd look better narrow, cut straight
across.
Well, We must be going, our clowns to win,
50 open, St. Peter, and Wen pass in!''
it. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff,
But in spite CT his Office he had to laugh.
Then said, with fiery CLEAN in his eye,
Who's tending this gateway, You or I!''
Ind then he arose In his statnre tall,
And pressed button upon the wall.
md said TO the imp who answered the bell,
Escort that lady around to hell"
The man stood still as piece of stone
stood sadly, gloomily, there alone.