The Lord's my Shepherd

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,

Even for his own Name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale,

Yet will I fear none 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 house for evermore

My dwelling-place shall be.

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