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The Lord's my
Shepherd, I’ll not want, He makes me down to lie In pastures green;
he leadeth me The quiet waters by. My soul
he doth restore again And me to walk doth make Within the paths of righteousness E’en for his own name's
sake. Yea, though I walk through death’s dark vale Yet will I fear no ill; For thou art with me, and
thy rod And staff me comfort still. My table thou hast furnished In presence of my foes; My head thou dost with oil
anoint And my cup overflows. Goodness and mercy all
my life Shall surely follow
me; And in God’s own house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be.
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