THE   FINAL INSPECTION The Soldier 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, Marine, How   shall I deal with you? Have  you always turned the other cheek? To  My Church have you been true?"    The   soldier 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, 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 Marine waited quietly, For  the judgment of his God.   "Step   forward now, you Marine, You've   borne your burdens well. Walk  peacefully on Heaven's streets, You've  done your time in Hell."   It's   the Soldier, not the reporter    Who  has given us the freedom of the press. It's   the Soldier, not the poet,    Who has  given us the freedom of speech.   It's the Soldier, not the politicians That ensures our right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.   It's the Soldier who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag, And whose coffin is draped by the flag.