And his master, far in the world below,
As he sits in his easy chair,
forgets himself and whistles low
for the dog that is not there.
And the little dog angel cocks his ears
And dreams that his master's voice he hears.

And I know, someday, when his master waits
Outside in the dark and cold
For the angel of death to open the gates
That lead to those courts of gold,
The little dog angel's eager  bark
Will comfort his soul while he's still in the dark.