Psalm XXIII.
1
The Lord himself my Shepherd is,
No want I need to fear:
In pastures green he makes me rest,
Where pleasant waters are.
2
He comforts and revives my soul,
When I am faint and weak:
And leads me in his righteous paths,
for his great mercies sake.
3
Yea in the darksome vale of death,
I will no danger fear:
Thy shepherds staff is my defence,
And thou art with me there.
4
My table thou hast furnished,
In sight of all my foes:
My head with oyl thou dost anoint,
My cup with plenty flows.
5
O may thy love and mercy, Lord,
Attend me all my days:
Then will I in thy temple dwell,
And there for ever praise.
2 Metre.
1
My shepheard is the Lord,
Who takes the care of me:
Since he doth me regard;
In want how can I be?
In sweetest grass
He makes me rest,
With streams refresh'd,
That gently pass.
2
When I am weak and low,
He doth my life sustain:
And when astray I go,
He brings me back again.
Conducting me
In his right ways,
To him the praise,
And glory be.
3
Yea though I walk in dale
Of death, as black as night:
No terrors shall prevail,
My courage to affright.
Why should I fear,
When thou; O God,
With shepherds rod,
Art with me there?
4
In sight of all my foes,
Thou mak'st me sit and dine:
My cup with plenty flows,
While they at me repine.
And on my head,
With ointments sweet,
For banquets meet,
Perfumes are spread.
5
Let goodness all my days,
And mercy me attend:
And then to sing thy praise,
Until my life shall end,
And worship thee;
Thy house, O God,
My fixt abode
Shall ever be.
