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 grasse, Where I both feed and rest; Then to the streams that gently passe: In both I have the best. Or, if I stray, he doth convert, And bring my minde in frame: And all this not for my desert, But for his holy name. Yea, in deaths shadie black abode Well may I walk, not fear; For thou art with me, and thy rod To guide, thy staffe to bear. Nay, thou dost make me sit and dine, Ev'n in my enemies sight: My head with oyl, my cup with wine, Runnes over day and night. Surely thy sweet and wondrous love Shall measure all my dayes; And, as it never shall remove, So neither shall my praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEUTRALITY LOATHSOME by ROBERT HERRICK THE CASTLE OF CHILLON by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON WAPENTAKE; TO ALFRED TENNYSON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RIDDLE: TEETH AND GUMS by MOTHER GOOSE SUPER FLUMINA BABYLONIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE GRAY MOOD by MARJORIE AKERMAN B. VILLANELLE OF CITY AND COUNTRY by ZOE AKINS |