King is my Shepherd The love of

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