The old man and his hound..

The Old Man and the Hound

An old man with his faithful hound abode,
Within a quiet, spacious dwelling-place
The old man turned his thoughts each day to God,
The hound beheld but him with trusting grace.
She knew not evil, falsehood, spite, nor pride,
He knew them well, yet still believed the Good,
He bowed before the Almighty as his Guide,
She only knew the hand by which she stood.
He deemed that all was ordered from above,
That every joy and grief by Heaven were sent,
She deemed herself the chosen child of love,
To whom all gifts were freely, kindly lent.
She thought the old man was her very God—
Her dawn, her refuge, and her setting sun,
The earth grew holy where his footsteps trod,
For where he walked, all fear and want were gone.
He loved the creature as his nearest friend,
As one received into his hearth and heart
With gentle speech he’d counsel, laugh, commend,
And chide her softly when she played her part.
And when she’d erred through simple, playful haste,
She turned aside her meek and troubled eyes,
As though condemning in herself the waste,
Of love she feared her master might despise.

Then watching both, a thought arose in me—
More clear than all the wisdom I had known:
We need our God less desperately than He,
Desires that none should wander forth alone.
He will not judge us by our darkest stain,
Nor weigh each fault with cold and equal scale,
As parents pardon children once again,
So shall His endless tenderness prevail.
He veils our countless trespasses from sight,
Still guarding us through dangers yet unseen,
His mercy walks beside us day and night,
Where justice, unaided, might have been.
I dreamed of God—a silver-headed sire,
Whose life no mortal measure could contain
Who sometimes feels a quiet, hidden fire,
Of grief too deep for language to explain.
When countless ages fade beyond His gaze,
And all His works before His spirit move,
He sees within the long procession of days,
His image living in the souls He loves.
And surely He shall gather every one—
Even those who never spoke His holy Name,
For His own heart could never cast aside,
A single soul for whom His mercy came.
To Him the deepest sorrow that could be,
Beyond all sins that mortal hearts have known,
Would be to leave one child eternally,
Forgotten, unloved, abandoned, and alone..