Psalm 23

The Lord my Shepheard, me his Sheepe
Will from consuming Famine keepe.
He fosters me in fragrant Meads,
By softly-sliding waters leads;
My Soule refresht with pleasant juice:
And lest they should his Name traduce,
Then when I wander in the Maze
Of tempting Sinne, informes my wayes.
No terrour can my courage quaile,
Though shaded in Deaths gloomy vale;
By thy Protection fortifi'd:
Thy Staffe my Stay, thy Rod my Guide.
My Table thou hast furnished;
Powr'd pretious Odors on my head:
My Mazer flowes with pleasant Wine,
While all my Foes with envy pine.
Thy Mercy and Beneficence
Shall ever joyne in my Defence;
Who in thy House will sacrifice,
Till aged Time close up mine eyes.