The Lord, the Lord my shepherd is, And so can never I Taste misery. He rests me in green pasture his; By waters still and sweet He guides my feet. He me revives; leads me the way Which righteousness doth take, For his name's sake. Yea, though I should through valleys stray Of death's dark shade, I will No whit fear ill. For thou, dear Lord, thou me besett'st; Thy rod and thy staff be To comfort me. Before me thou a table sett'st, Even when foe's envious eye Doth it espy. With oil thou dost anoint my head, And so my cup dost fill That it doth spill. Thus, thus, shall all my days be fed; This mercy is so sure It shall endure, And long, yea long, abide I shall There where the Lord of all Doth hold his hall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EURIPIDES by ALEXANDER AETOLUS IN PRAISE OF A COUNTRY LIFE by PHILIP AYRES BEYOND THE BAR by BEATRICE B. BEEBE ROSETTE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE HEATHER ON FIRE by MATHILDE BLIND THE CHARM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE ORCHARD FEAST by GORDON BOTTOMLEY SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED IN TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE by VINCENT BOURNE |