Audubon County journal., 1911-05-04


And play 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 meeting three times a week,
And almost always I'd rise and speak.
I've told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent of their evil way,
I've told my neighbors---l've told EN- all
Bout Adam and Eve and the Primal Fall,
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 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 is strong.
So, good st. Peter, you III clearly see
The gate of Heaven is open for ME,
But my old man, regret to say,
Hash 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 not.
He would pray with earnest vim,
Or go to revivals or join in hymn.
So [ had to leave him in sorrow there
While with chosen, united in prayer
He ate what pantry chanced to afford,
While l, in my purity, sang to the Lord
And if cucumbers were all he got
1t chance if he merited them not.
But oh, 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 atone9 Can't you let him in9
By my grim gospel l know It's so
That the unrepented must fry below.
But ism t there some way you can
That he may enter who s dear to me?
Its a narrow gospel by which pray.
But the chosen expect to find some way
OF coaxing or foong, or bribng you
SO that their relations can amble through
And say, st. Peter it to
This gate ism t kept as it ought to be
You ought to stand right by that opening there
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 are
trimmed.
They re cut too wide, and outward toss;
They'd look better narrow, cut straight across
Well, must be going, onr crowns to win,
SO, open st. Peter and II pass in!
st. Peter sat quiet, and stroked his staff,
But spite of his office he had to laugh.
Then said with fiery gleam in his eye,
Who's tending this gateway, you or II
And then he in his stature tall,
And pressed button upon the wall.
And said he to the imp that answered the bell
Escort this lady around to
The man stood still as a piece of stone,
Stood sadly, gloomiy there alone.
A lifelong, settled idea he had
That his wife was good and he was bad
He thought if the woman went down below
That he would certainly have to go;
That if she went to the regions dim
There wasn't a ghost of chance for him
Slowly he turned by habit bent,
To follow wherever the woman went
st. Peter standing duty there,
Observed that the top of his head was bare.
He called the gentleman back ,and said
Friend, how long hast thou been wed9'
Thirty years. with weary sgh)
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 spoke,
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
Ho! Angel Gabriel! Give him harp!
A jeweed harp with golden string!
Good sir, pass in where the angels sing!
Gabriel give him seat alone,
One with a 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 all the h he needs.
Is isn't just hardly the thing to do
To roast him on earth and in the future too.
They gave him harp with golden strings,
A glittering robe and pair of wings,
And he said as he entered the Realm of Day,
'sWell this beats cucumbers, anyway!
And so the Scriptures had come to pass
last