High up in the courts of Heaven, today,
A little dog-angel waits.
With the other angels, he will not play,
But he sits alone, at the gates.
"For I know that my master will come," says he,
"And when they come, they will call for me."

He see the spirits pass him by,
As they hurry to the throne,
And he watches them with an eager eye,
As he sits by the gate, alone.
"For I know that my masters will come," says he,
"If only, I just wait, patiently."

And that master, far on the Earth below,
As they sit in their easy chair,
Forgets sometimes, and whistles low,
For the dog, that isn't there.
And the little dog-angel cocks his ears,
And dreams of his master's call, he hears.

And I know that, at last, when the master waits,
Outside in the dark and cold,
For the angel of death to open the gates,
That lead to the streets of gold,
That little dog-angel's eager bark,
Will comfort their soul, in the shivering dark.

Author unknown