The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; he leadeth me
The quiet waters by.

My soul he doth restore again
And me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness
Even for his own name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through death's dark vale
Yet will I fear no ill
For thou art with me, and thy rod
And staff me comfort still.

My table thou has furnished
In presence of my foes;
My head thou dost with oil anoint
And my cup overflows.

Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me,
And in God's house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.