Classic Poem

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,
E'en 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.