My Shepherd is the Lord my God,—
There is no want I know;
His flock He leads in verdant meads,
Where tranquil waters flow.
He doth restore my fainting soul
With His divine caress,
And, when I stray, He points the way
To paths of righteousness.
Yea, though I walk the vale of death,
What evil shall I fear?
Thy staff and rod are mine, O God,
And Thou, my Shepherd, near!
Mine enemies behold the feast
Which my dear Lord hath spread;
And, lo! my cup He filleth up,
With oil anoints my head!
Goodness and mercy shall be mine
Unto my dying day;
Then will I bide at His dear side
Forever and for aye!