Classic Poem

The XXIII Psalm

The Lord most hie,
I know, will be
An heyrde to me:
I can not long have stresse, nor stand in neede.

He makes my leare
In feelds so fare,
That without care
I do repose and at my pleasure feede.
He sweetlie me convoyes
To pleasant springes,
Where nothing me annoyes
But pleasure bringes.
He gives my minde
Peace in such kinde,
That feare of foes nor force can not me reave.
By him I am lead
In perfite tread;
And, for his name, he will me never

Though I should stay
Even day by day
In deadlie way,
Yet would I be assurde, and fear no ill;
For why? thy grace
In everie place
Doth me imbrace;
Thy rod and shiphirds-crook comforts me still.
In despyte of my foe
My table growes.
Thou balmes my head with joy:
My cuppe ouerflowes:
Kindnesse and grace,
Mercie and peace
Shall follow me, for all my wretched dayes;
Then endless joy
Shall me convoy
To heaven, where I with thee shall be alwaies.