Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1903-06-25
Az ST. PETERS GATE
JOSEPH sER,f smILEY's MOST
E.Aaious POEM.
How the Saint and the Sinner Went
Hand In Hand to the Portals OF the
City Of Peace, and tbs Welcome
Accorded Them.


JOSEPH Bert Smiley, author OF st.
Peter at the Gate" is dead. He was
found dying in the woods near Ken
dalIyille, Ind, with bullet hole In his
temple.
His poem brought him national
reputation. II is given below:
ST. Peter stood guard at the golden gate
With q solemn mien and 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
Before s.. Peter. so great and good.
In hope 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 chin
The man Was short and thick and stout.
His stomach was built so il rounded OUT,
His face was pleasant and all the while
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
1--WE 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
I've been TO meeting three times week
And almost always Id rise and speak.
i've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent OF their evil way
I've told my nesghbors-Tye told em all
Bout Adam and Eve. and the Primal
I'VE shown them what they'd have to do
II they'd pass in with the chosen lew.
I've marked their path OF duty clear
Laid out the plan for their whole career.
I've talked and talked to 'em loud and
long.
So, good ST. Peter. you'll clearly see
The gate Of heaven Is open for me,
But my old man, i regret to say, ow
He smokes and he swears. and grave
faults he's got,
And don't know whether he'll pass or
not.
He never would pray with an earnest
Or go to revival. or join in a hymn.
While /, with the chosen, united IN
He ate what the pantry CHANGED to af-
While /, in my purity. sang to the Lord
And IL cucumbers were all he got
It's chance II 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--a saint I've been.
Won't that atone? Can't you let him in?
BY my grim gospel know tbs SO
But isn't there some way you can see
That he may enter who's dear to meY
It's narro0 gospel which ] pray.
or coaxing or fooling or bribing you,
So that their relation can amble through.
And say, St Peter, II seems to me
That gate isn't kept as IL ought TO be.
And never sit down in that easy chair.
And say, st. Peter, my sight is dImmed.
But ! don't like the way your whiskers
are trimmed.
They're cut too wide. and outward toss;
They'd look better narrow cut straight
WELL we must be going our crowns to
So open, st. Peter, and wen pass In"
st. Peter sat quiet and stroked his stan.
But spite of HIS office, he had to laugh,
Then said, with fiery CLEAN In his eye,
And tben aep hs arose in his stature ta
And pressed a button upon the wall
And said to the imp who answered TIE
Escort this female around to heur'
The man stood still as piece Of stone
stood sadly. gloomily, there alone.
A lifelong, settled idea he had
He thought il the woman went down be-
That he would certainly have to go
There wasn't the ghost Of show for
aim.
slowly he turned, by habit bent.
st. Peter, standing on duty there,
Observed that the top OF his head was
He called the gentleman back and said.
Friend. how long hast thou been wed?'
Thirty years" with weary sigh)-
And then he thoughtfully added. "Why?'
st. Peter was silent With head bent
He raised his hand and scratched his
crown.
Then. seeming different thought to take,
Slowly. half to himself. he spaka.
Thirty years with that woman there?
No wonder the man hasn't got any hair,
Swearing is wicked Smokes not good.
He smoked and swore-I should think he
would
Il
Ho! Angel GABRIEL GIVE HIM A HARP,
A jeweled harp with golden stringl
Good sir. pass In where the angels sing!
Gabriel, give him a seat alone
One with the cushion-up near the throne!
Call up some angels to play their best.
Let him enjoy the music. and rest.
See that on finest ambrossa he feeds.
He's had about all the hell he needs
IL isn't Just hardly the thing TO do
TO roast him on earth and the future.
too"
They gave him harp with golden
strings.
A glittering robe and pair of wings,
And he said as he entered the Realms of
Day,
We'll. this beats cucumbers, anyway"
And so the Scriptures had come to pass,
THE last shall be first and the first shall
be last"
vineiand Famiiy's Many Misfortunes.
The extraordinary ill-fortune that
has followed William Cromwell and
his family of vineland, N. j., for the