The Firefighter Stood
firefighter stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you firefighter,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been True?"
The firefighter squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't
because those of us who fight fire,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the streets are awfully tough
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was a silence all around the throne
where the saints had often trod
As the firefighter waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God,
"Step forward now you firefighter,
You've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."