The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1903-06-26
ST. PETERS GATE
JOSEPH BERT SMilEY'S MOST
FAMOUS POEM.
How the Saint and the Sinner Teh'
Hand in Hand to the Portals OF the
City of Peace, and the welcome
Accorded Them.

City of Peace, and the welcome
Accorded Them.
Joseph Bert Smiley, author OF 81
Peter at the Gate" is dead. he was
found dying in the woods near hen-
dallville, Ind, with a bullet hole IN MS
temple.
His poem brought him a national
| reputation. 1t is given below:
st. Peter stood guard at the golden gate
With a solemn mien and air sedate'
When up to the top Of the golden STAR
A man and a woman. ascending Iheie'
| Applied for admission. They came ana
stood
Before St. Peter, so great and good
In nope the City of Peace to win.
| And asked St. Peter to let them IN.
| The woman was tall and lank and thin,
| With a scraggy beardlet upon her chm.
The man was short and timex ana STU
His stomach was built so 1t rouhueu 81,
His face was pleasant, ana an Tue WHY
He wore a kindly and genial smile
The choirs in the distance the echoes
And the man kept still while the woman
spoke.
"Oh, thou who guardest the gate SAID
I'VE come hither, beseeching thee
To let us enter the heavenly land,
And play our harps with the ansTl oa"''
OF me, st. Peter. there is no uoupI
There's nothing from heaven to bar me
I've been to meeting three times a week,
And almost always I'd rise ana speak
I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent of their evil way,
I've told my neighbors-Ive told EN- an
Bout Adam and Eve, and the Prinal
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 GEAR
Laid out the plan for their whole career
I've talked and talked to 'em loud and
For my lungs are good and my voice is
So, good St. Peter, you'll clearly see
The gate of heaven is open for me-
But my old man, I regret to say,
Hasn't walked in exactly the narrow
He smokes and he swears. and grave
And | don't Know whether he'll pass or
He never would pray with an earnest
vim.
Or go to revival, or join in a hymn,
So l had to leave him in sorrow there
While 1, with the chosen, united in
He ate what the pantry CHANGED to af-
ford,
While l, in my purity, sang to the Lord.
And If were all he got
It's a chance if he merited them or not.
But oh, st. Peter. l love him SO
To the pleasures of heaven please let
I've lone ~enough-a saint I've been.
Won't that atone? Can't you let him in?
T Rg my ns grim nnrs GOSPEL NJ | m KneT fr TVS below So
But isn't there some way you can see
That he may enter who's dear to me?
It's a narrow gospel which I pray.
But the chosen expect to find some way
OF coaxing or fooling or bribing you,
So that their relation can amble through.
And say, st. Peter, 1t seems to me
That gate isn't kept as it ought to be.
You ought to stand right by the opening
And never sit down in that easy chair.
And say, st. Peter, my sight is dimmed,
But l don't like the way your whiskers
They're cut too wide, and outward toss:
They'd look better narrow. cut straight
across.
Well, We must be going our crowns to
So open, st. Peter, and Well pass n"
St. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff,
But, spite OF MS ONCE, ne ndu 10 ldugn,
Then said, with a fiery CLEAN in his eye,
"Who's tending this gate, you or 1|'
And then he arose, in his stature tall,
And pressed a button upon the wall
n said to the imp who answered the
Escort this female around to hell!"
The man stood still as a piece Q, stone
A lifelong. settled idea he a
That his wife was good and he was bad.
He thought if the woman went dc wn be-
hat he would certainly have to go
that II she went to the regions dim
There wasn't the ghost Of a 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
He called the gentleman back and said,
Firing S SoM long with hast a th %ear nssa sig Tsd9"
And then he thoughtfully added. "Why?"
St. Peter was silent With head bent
He raised his hand and scratched his
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 got any hair!
10 WlShtu. oiilche > IlOl ROOQ.
He smoked and swore-I should think he
would!
Thirty years with that tongue SO sharp,
Ho! Angel Gabriel! GIVE HIM A HARP!
A jeweled harp with a golden string!
Good sir, pass in where the angels sing!
Gabriel, give him a seat alone
One with the c~ushion-up near the thronei
Call up some angels to play their best,
Let him enjoy the music, and rest.
See that on finest ambrosia he feeds.
He's had about all the hell he needs
1t isn't just hardly the thing to do
To roast him on earth and the future,
too
They gave him a harp with golden
strings,
A glittering robe and a pair of wings.
And he said as he entered the Realms Of
Day,
We'll, this beats cucumbers,
And so the Scriptures had come to pass.
The last shall be first and the first shall
be last"
vineland Family's Many Misfortunes.
The extraordinary ill-fortune that
has followed William Cromwell and
his family of Vineland, N. j., for the
past several months has aroused the
| sympathy of the entire communi+y