The Lord My Pasture Shall Prepare,
And Feed Me With A Shepherd’s Care;
His Presence Shall My Wants Supply,
And Guard Me With A Watchful Eye;
My Noonday Walks He Shall Attend,
And All My Midnight Hours Defend.
When In The Sultry Glebe I Faint,
Or On The Thirsty Mountain Pant,
To Fertile Vales And Dewy Meads
My Weary Wandering Steps He Leads,
Where Peaceful Rivers, Soft And Slow,
Amid The Verdant Landscape Flow.
Though In A Bare And Rugged Way
Through Devious Lonely Wilds I Stray,
Thy Bounty Shall My Pains Beguile;
The Barren Wilderness Shall Smile
With Sudden Greens And Herbage Crowned,
And Streams Shall Murmur All Around.
Though In The Paths Of Death I Tread,
With Gloomy Horrors Overspread,
My Steadfast Heart Shall Fear No Ill,
For Thou, 0 Lord, Art With Me Still:
Thy Friendly Staff Shall Give Me Aid,
And Guide Me Through The Dreadful Shade.
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