THE LITTLE WHITE DOG
I wonder if Christ had a little white dog,
All curly and woolly like mine,
With two silky ears, and a nose round and wet,
And two eyes so tender that shine.
I’m sure if He had, that little white dog
Knew right from the first He was God
And needed no proof that Christ was divine,
But just worshipped the ground that He trod.
I’m afraid that He hadn’t, because I have read
How He prayed in the garden alone,
For all His friends and disciples had left Him and fled,
Even Peter the one called a stone.
And oh I am sure that, that little white dog,
With a heart so tender and warm
Would never have left Him, to suffer alone,
But creeping right under His arm,
Would have licked those dear fingers, in agony clasped,
And counting all favours but loss
When they took Him away, would have trotted behind,
And followed him right to the cross.