J.S. Irvine(1836 Ė 1887)
The Lordís my shepherd, Iíll 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,
eíen for his own nameís sake.
Yea, though I walk in deathís dark vale,|
yet will I fear none ill,
for thou art with me and thy rod
and staff me comfort still.
My table thou hast 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 Godís house forevermore
my dwelling place shall be.