XXIII.
1
The Lord my sheepheard is, of want
I never shall complain;
2
For me to rest on, hee doth grant
Greene pastures of the plaine.
3
Hee leads me stillest streams beside,
And doth my soule reclame.
In righteous paths hee doth me guide,
For glorie of his name.
4
The valley darke of death's aboade
To passe, I'le feare no ill;
For Thow art with me, Lord, thy rod
And staffe me comfort still.
5
For me a table Thow dost spread
In presence of my foes.
With oyle thow dost anoint mine head;
By the my cup or'flowes.
6
Mercie and goodnes all my dayes
With me shall surelie stay,
And in thy house, thy name to praise,
Lord I will dwell for ay.