Sequachee Valley news. (Sequachee [Sequatchie], Tenn.) 1896-1952, 1907-02-28
ST. PETER AT THE GATE.
Published by Request. J


With solemn mien and an air sedate;
When mp 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 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
ont;
His face was pleasant and all the while
He wore kindly and pleasant smile.
The choirs in the distance the echoes
awoke,
And the man kept still while the wo-
man spoke.
"Oh thou who guardest the gate"
said she,
"We two come hither beseeching thee
To let ms enter the heavenly land,
And play our harps with the angel
band,
OF me, st. Peter, there is no doubt,
There nothing from heaven to bar me
out.
I've been to meeting three times a
week,
And almost always I'd rise to speak.
I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent of their evil way;
I've told my neighbors, I've told them
all
About Adam and Eve and the primal
fall;
I've shown them what they have to do
If they's pass in with the chosen few.
I've marked the path of duty clear,
Laid out the path for their whole ca
reer.
I've talked and talked to EN- loud and
long,
For my lungs are good and my voice is
strong.
So good st. Peter, you'll clearly see
The gate of heaven is open to me,
But my old man, I 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 60 to a revival or join in a hymn,
So had to leave him in sorrow there,
While I with the chosen united in
prayer,
He ate what the pantry CHANGED to
afford,
While I in my purity sang to the Lord,
And if cucumbers were all he got
It q chance if he merited them or not.
But, ah st. Peter, love him so
To the pleasure of heaven please lei
him go;
I've done enough, saint I've been,
Won that atoneY Won't you let hin
in?
BY my grim gospel know it is so,
That the unrepentant must fry below,
But isn't there some way that you car
see,
That he may enter who's dear to me?
It's narrow gospel by which pray,
But the chosen expect to find some wa.
By coaxing or fooling or bribing you
SO that their relations can amble thru
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 dim
med,
But l don't like the way your whisk
ers are trimmed,
They are cut too wide and outwar
toss,
They'd look better narrow and Gu
straight across.
Well, we must be going, our crown
to win,
So open, st. Peter, and We'll pass in.
st. Peter sat quiet and stroked hi
staff,
: But spite of his Office he had to laugl
! Then said with fiery CLEAN in b
eye,
Who's tending this gateway, you or Z
, And then he arose in his statue tall,
} And pressed button upon the wall
: And said to the imp who answered IL
bell,
Escort this lady around lowell.
! The man stood still as piece of ston
| Stood sadly, gloomily there alone.
, A life long-settled idea he had
That his wife was good and he w
!. bad.
He thought if the woman went dow
g below,
= That he would certainly have to go;
7 That if she went to the regions dim,
There WASH the ghost of show f
him.
Slowly he turned by habit bent
r To follow where e. er the woman wer
st. Peter standing on duty there,
it Observed that the TOP of his. head W
bare.
. He called the gentleman back and sal
a Friend, how long have you be
wedY'