The King of love my
shepherd is
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his
And he is mine for ever.
Where streams of
living water flow
My
ransomed soul he leadeth,
And where the
verdant pastures grow
With food
celestial feedeth.
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love he sought me,
And on his shoulder gently laid,
And home, rejoicing, brought me.
In
death's dark
vale I fear no ill
With thee, dear Lord, beside me;
Thy
rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy
cross before to guide me.
Thou spread'st a table in my sight;
Thy
unction grace bestoweth;
And oh, what transport of delight
From thy pure
chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days
They goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
Within thy house forever.
--
Henry William Baker,
1868