The Good Lord shepherds me, I shall not want,
He maketh me to lie in verdant meads,
He guideth me beside the placid font.
In paths of righteousness my soul He leads
My spirit is restored for His name’s sake.
And though I wander through the darksome vale
Of death, He is with me, I shall not quake
His rod and staff ease me, I fear no bale.
My table He prepareth evermore
E’en in the presence of mine enemy,
He salves my head with oil, my cup runs o’er
Goodness and mercy ever follow me
And I, through all my days of entity,
Will dwell inside the house of Deity.
Beirut
June 30th 1989
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem