New Iberia enterprise and independent observer. (New Iberia, La.) 1902-1944, 1903-07-25
ST. PETER At the GATE.

St. Peter stood guard at the golden gate
With solemn msin and air sedate,
When up to the top Of the golden stair
A man and woman, ascending there,
Applied for admission. They came and
stood
Before st. 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 scraggy beardlet upon her chin.
The man was short and thick and stout.
His stomach was built so 1t 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.
ooh, thou who guardest the gate" said
she,
I've two come hither, beseechng thee
To let us enter the heavenly land,
Aud play our harps with the angel band.
OF me, st. P Peter, there is no doubt,
There's nothing from heaven to bar me
out.
pve been to meeting three times week,
And almost always I'd rise to speak.
When they'd repent their evil way,
Bout Adsm and Eve, and the Primal
I've shown them what they'd have to do
II 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 'em loud and
long,
For my lungs are good and my voice 10
strong.
30, good 81. Peter, you'll clearly see
The gate OF heaven is open Tor me,
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.
And ! don't know whether he'll pass or
not.
He never would pray with an earnest vim,
Or 80 to revival, or join In hymn,
50 had to leave him In sorrow there
While l, with the chosen, united in prayer,
He ate what the pantry chanced to afford,
While l, in my purity, sang to the Lord.
And X cucumbers were all he got
It's chance II he merited them or not.
But oh, st. Peter, love him 30
10 the pleasure OF heaven please lot him
I've done enough--a saint I've been.
Won't that atonei Can't you let him in r
BY my grim gospel know lis 20,
That the unrepsntant must fry below.
But isn't there some way you can see
That he may enter who's dear to met
It's narrow gospel which I pray,
But the chosen expect to find some way
or coaxing or foolling or bribing you,
SO that their relation can ainbls through.
And say, st. Peter, IL seems to me
That gate isn't kept o. It ought to be.
You ought to stand right by opening there
And never cit down in that easy chair.
And say, st. Peter, my sight is dimmsd,
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
across.
Well, we must b going our crowns 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 6ery CLEAN in his eye,
who's tending this gate, you or IT.
Aud then he arose, in his stature tall,
And pressed button upon the wall
And said to the imp who answered the
bell:
Escort this female around to hsllp'
The man stood still as q piece Of stone
Stood sadly, gloomily, there alone,
A lifelong, settled idea he had
That bis wife was good and he was bad.
He thought II the woman went down be-
low
There he would certainly have to GO
That II she went to the regions dim
There wasn't the ghost Of show for him.
Slowly he turned, by habit bent,
To follow wherever the women went.
st. Peter, standing on duty there,
Observed that the top Of his head was
bare.
He called the gentlemen back and said:
Friend, how long hast thou been wedf'
Thirty years" with weary sigh)-
And then be thoughtfully sdded "Whyr
st. Peter was silent. With head bent
down
He raised his hand and scratched his
crown.
Then seeming different thought to take,
Slowly, half TO himself, he spoke
Thirty years with that woman therey
No wonder the man hasn't got any hair,
Swearing 10 wicked. Smokes not good.
He smoked and swore--l should think he
would
Thirty years with that tongue 20 sharp!
Ho! Angel Gabriel! GIVE HIN A HARP
A jewsled harp with golden string
Good str, pass in whore 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,
Lot bim enjoy the music and rest.
See that on finest ambrosis be feeds,
He's had about all the hell hs 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,
4 glitteTing robe and pair Of wings,
And he said ~ he entered the Realms Of
Day,
well, this bsats sucumbsEs, anyway r.
And % the Scriptures had come 70 pass,
''Ihs last shall be 6sst and the first shall
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