The sailor stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass.
Step forward now, you sailor
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?
The sailor squared his shoulders and said,
No, Lord, I guess I ainít
Because those of us who carry guns
Canít always be a saint.
Iíve had to work most Sundays
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes Iíve been violent,
Because the world is rough.
But, I never took apenny
That wasnít 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,
Iíve wept unmanly tears.
I know I donít deserve a place
Among the people here,
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears.
If youíve a place for me here, Lord,
It neednít be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you donít, Iíll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod
As the sailor waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God,
Step forward now you sailor
Your pain has not been wasted
For now you will have joy and peace
For all the tears youíve tasted.
To all that serve. . .
- author unknown -
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