THE LAST PATROL

The Officer 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, dear Officer,
How do you feel about your Savior?
Have you always lived up to your expectations?
For my Son have you refused to waiver?"

The officer squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
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 world is awfully rough.

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,
Jesus help me I would cry as I wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
The world 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 Officer waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, dear Officer,
You've called on Jesus in your days.
You sought forgiveness too, so my judgment for you,
Dear Officer is, Not Guilty! Dept paid!

"So son walk through the Golden Gate,
Your reward is waiting there and is done.
By Mercy and Grace your here dear Officer,
Not by your works you see, walk in peace your beat is over son!"

~Author Unknown~

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