MY shepherd is the Lord above,
Who ne'er will suffer me to rove;
In Him I'll trust; he is so good,
He'll never let me want for food.

By his strong arm I'm firmly bound,
And by his Grace begirt around;
So that, nor man, nor maid, nor Devil,
Can e'er prevail, to do me evil.

To pastures green and flow'ry meads,
His happy flock he gently leads,
Where water in abundance flows,
And where luxuriant herbage grows.

When o'er my bounds I chance to roam,
My shepherd finds and brings me home;
And when I wander o'er the plain,
He drives me to the fold again.

Or shou'd I hap to lose my way,
And in Death's gloomy valley stray,
I need not ever be dismay'd;
For God himself will be my aid.

In whate'er pasture I abide,
He still is present at my side;
His rod, his crook, his shepherd's staff,
At all events shall keep me safe.

My soul with comfort overflows,
In spite of all my num'rous foes;
And thou with sweetness hast, O Lord!
And plenty crown'd my crowded board.

His precious balms, my God hath shed,
Upon my highly-favour'd head;
And with the blessings of the Lord,
My larder is completely stor'd.

His bounty, and his mercies past,
Shall follow me unto the last ;
And, for his favours shewn to me,
His house, my home shall ever be.

To God, the Father - and the Son -
And the Holy Spirit - Three-in-one,
Let us our bounden homage pay,
Each hour, each moment of the day!