The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1904-08-18
| WIN E Or
| CARDUO
st Peter at the Golden Gate.
published by Request.

st Peter at the Golden Gate.
published by Request)
St. Peter stood guard at the golden gate
With a solemn rnien 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
| stood
| Before st. Peter, great and good
| 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 scraggy beardlet upon her chin.
| The man was short, and thick, and stout,
His stomach was built so it rounded out,
His face was pleasant, and all the while
| He wore kindly and genial smile.
| The choirs in the distance the echoes woke,
And the man kept still while the woman
spoke:
| "Oh, thou who guardest the gate" said she
I'VE two come hither, beseechng 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 week
And almost always I'd rise and speak
| I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent their evil way;
| l have told my neighbors, have told them
all
Bout Adam and Eve and the Primal fall:
| 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 tor 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, youll clearly see
The gate of heaven is oIyn to 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 go to revival, or join in hymn,
So had to leave him in sorrow there
While /, with the chosen, united in prayer
He ate what the pantry CHANGED TO afford,
While J, in my purity, sang to the Lord;
| And If cuCumbers were all he got
It's a 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 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
OF coaxing, or tooling, or bribing you
So that their relations can amble through.
And say, ST. Peter, it seems to me
This gate isn't kept as it ought to be.
You ought to stand by that opening there
And never sit down in that easy chair.
And, say, St. Peter, my sight is dmmed
But don't like the way your whiskers are
trimmed;
They're cut too wide and outward toss,
They'd look better narrower, cut straight
across
Well, we must be going our crowns to win
So open, st, Peter, and well pass in I"
St. Peter sat quiet and stroked his staff
But, spite of his oHce, he had to laugh
Then said with fiery CLEAN in his eye,
who's tending this gateway-you or T."
And then he arose in his stature tall
And pressed button upon the wall
And said to the imp who answered the bell,
Escort this lady around to hell -
The man stood still as piece of stone.
Stood sadly gloomily, there alone,
lifelong settled idea he had
He thought ii the woman went down below
That he would certainly have to go
That If she went to the regions dim
There wasn't 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 bare. |
He called the gentleman back and said,
Friend how long have you been wed :"
Thirty years with 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 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-I should think he
would
Thirty years with that tongue so sharp
Ho! Angel Gabriel Give him a harp!
A JeweLed harp with golden string,
Good sir pass in where the angels sing.
Gabriel, give him seat alone
One with cushion-up near the throne
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,
II isn't just hardly the thing to do
TO roast him on earth and the future, too"
They gave him harp with golden strings,
glittering robe with pair of wings,
And he said as he entered the Realm of Day
We'll, this beats cucumber, anyway"
And so the Scriptures had come to pass;
''The last shall be first and the first shall be,
last"