Bishop Doane on His Dog

I am quite sure he thinks that I am God--

since he is God on whom each one depends

for life, and all things that His bounty sends--

my dear old dog, most constant of all friends;

not quick to mind, but quicker far than I

to Him whom God I know and own; his eye,

deep brown and liquid, watches for my nod;

he is more patient underneath the rod

than I, when God His wise corrections sends.

He looks love at me, deep as words e'er spake;

and from me never crumb nor sup will take

but he wags thanks with his most vocal tail;

and when some crashing noise wakes all his fear,

he is content and quiet, if I am near,

secure that my protection will prevail.

So, faithful, mindful, thankful, trustful, he

tells me what I unto my God should be.

by George Washington Doane

Psalm 126

When her sons from bonds redeeming 

GOD to Zion led the way, 

we were like to people dreaming 

thoughts of bliss too bright to stay. 

Fill'd with laughter, stood we gazing,

loud our tongues in rapture sang; 

quickly with the news amazing 

all the startled nations rang. 

"See Jehovah's works of glory! 

Mark what love for them he had!" 

"Yes, for us! Go tell the story. 

This was done, and we are glad." 

LORD! thy work of grace completing 

all our exiled hosts restore, 

as in thirsty channels meeting 

southern streams refreshing pour. 

They that now in sorrow weeping 

tears and seed commingled sow, 

soon, the fruitful harvest reaping, 

shall with joyful bosoms glow. 

Tho' the sower's heart is breaking, 

bearing forth the seed to shed, 

he shall come, the echoes waking, 

laden with his sheaves instead. 

--William Digby Seymour 1882