• The Lord is my shepherd
    Of nothing shall I ask.
    He leadeth me of his herd,
    To bounty’d fields of grass:
    He leadeth me to quiet brooks.
    He restoreth my soul when all is shook.

    For but only His glory
    Walk I down narrow paths.
    Through all evil of my story
    I shall fear no Hell-ish staffs:
    With staff in hand I need not fear,
    For You, my Lord, are always here.

    Thou maketh my foes boil
    While in their midst do I eat:
    My head, thou anointest with oil,
    And let blessings flood past my feet.
    Surely, all my days shall follow me His grace:
    And I shall dwell forever within His holy place.