Psalm XXIII

The Lord my SHEAPERD is, Hee doth mee feed,
His bounty euermore supplies my need;
When I in pastures greene my fill haue tooke,
He leads mee forth into the siluer brooke;
Hee turnes my soule, when it is gon astray,
For His name's glory, to His righteous way;
Therefore although my soule detruded were,
Euen to Hell's gates, yet I not ill should feare;
When Thou art with mee, what should mee dismay?
Thy crooke, my comfort is; Thy staffe, my stay;
My table Thou hast spread and furnisht soe,
As glads my heart, and greiues my enuious foe;
Thy balme powr'd on my head, doth sweetly smell;
Thou makst my cup aboue the brimme to swell.
Thy mercy, while I breathe, shall follow mee,
And in Thy house my dwellinge-place shall bee.