Jehovah feedeth me, I shall not lack;
by Henry Ainsworth
In grassy folds he down doth make me lye,
He gently leads me quiet waters by,
He doth return my soul: for his name sake
In paths of justice leads me quietly.
Yea, though I walk in dale of deadly shade.
He fear none ill, for with me thou wilt be;
Thy rod, thy staff, eke they shall comfort me:
Fore me a table thou hast ready made,
In their presence that my distressers be:
Thou makest fat mine head with ointing oil;
My cup abounds. Doubtless good and mercy
Shall all the days of my life follow me:
Also within Jehovah's house I shall
To length of dayes repose me quietly.