The God of love my Shepherd is, and he that doth me feed; while he is mine and I am his, what can I want or need? He leads me to the tender grass, where I both feed and rest; then to the streams that gently pass, in both I have the best. Or if I stray, he doth convert, and bring my mind in frame, and all this not for my desert, but for his holy Name. Yea, in death's shady black abode well may I walk, not fear; for thou art with me, and thy rod to guide, thy staff to bear. Surely thy sweet and wondrous love shall measure all my days; and as it never shall remove so neither shall my praise.
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