White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1931-10-15
est. Peter at the Gate"
Reprinted by Request

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st. Peter stood guard at the golden
gate
With solemn mien 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, 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
out;
His face was pleasant and ali the while
He wore kindly and gentle smile.
The choirs in the distance the echoes
woke,
And the man kept still while the wo-
man spoke:
"Oh thou who guardest the gate" said
she,
1--WE two come hither beseeching 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 meeting three times a
week,
And almost always I'd rise and speak
Give told the sinners about the day
When they'd repent of their evil way
I've told my neighbours I've told 'em 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;
rye marked their path of duty clear
Laid out the path for their whole
career.
Give talked and talked to 'em, 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, 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 a 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 in my purity sang to the Lord
And it cucumbers were all he got
It's a chance If he merited them or not
"But oh, ST. Peter, love him sol!
To the pleasure of Heaven please let
him go.
I've done enough, saint I've been,
Won't that atone? Can't you let him in:
BY my grim gospel I know tbs 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-
cts narrow gospel by which pray
But the chosen expect to find some
way
OF 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 1t 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 dimmed
But don't like the way your whiskers
are trimmed;
They're cut too wide and outward toss
They'd look better narrow and cut
straight across.
Well, we must be going, our crowns tc
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 a fiery CLEAN in his
eye,
"Who's tending this gateway, You or I:
And then he arose in his stature tall
And pressed a button upon the wall,
And said to the imp who answered the
bell,
escort this lady around to"
The man stood still as piece or stone
Stood sadly, gloomily there alone;
A lifelong settled idea he had,
That his wife was good and he was
bad
He thought if the woman went dowr
below,
That he would certainly have to 60
That if she went to the regions dim
There wasn't ghost of 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 wa.
bare;
He called the gentleman back and said
Friend; how long have you been wed?'
Thirty years." with weary sigh
And then he added, "Why?"
ST. Peter was silent. Then ha hon,
down,
Raised his hand and scratched hi.
crown,
Then seeming different thought tt
take,
Slowly half to himself he spake,
Thirty years with that woman there;
No wonder the man hasn't any hair
Swearing is wicked, smoking not good
He smoked and swore-I should think
he would
Thirty years with that tongue Sc
sharp?
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