Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1911-04-20

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 meeting three times 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---I We 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 EN- loud and long,
For my lungs good, and my voice is strong
SO, good ST. Peter, you II clearly see
The gate of Heaven is open for ME,
But my old man, regret to say,
Hasn't walked in exactly the narrow way.
He smokes land he swears and grave faults
he's got,
And don't know whether he I'll pass not
He never would pray with an 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 CHANGED to Afford
While |, in my purity, sang to the Lord
And 1t cucumbers We're all he got
It's a chance if he merited them or not.
But oh, Peter, 1 love him, so
To the pleasures Of Heaven please let him go
I've done enough-a saint I've been,
BY my grim gospel / know It's so
That the unrepented must fry below.
But isn't there some way you can see
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 fooling, or bribing you
So that their relations amble through
And say, St Peter it seems to
This gate isn'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 dimlned
But I 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 be going, orr 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 fiery CLEAN in his eye,
sWho's tending this gateway, you or IL
And then he arose 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 piece of stone,
Stood sadly gloomily there alone.
A lifelong, settled idea he had
That his wife 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 on duty there
Observed that the top of his head was bare
He called the gentleman back and said,
SSFriend how long hast thou been wed?"
''Thirty years., with weary sgh.)
And then he thoughtfully added, S'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 hash It any har
Swearing is wicked, smokes not good
He smoked and swore---I should think he would
Thirty years with that tongue sharp?
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 a harp with golden strings,
A gttering robe, and pair Of wings,
And he said as he entered the Realm Of Day,
"Well this beats cucumbers anyway"
And so the Scriptures had come to pass
'sThe last shall be first and the first shall be
last