The Lord Is My Shepherd (Lewis)

I shall not want.

Upon Thy arm re­ly­ing

Hunger

and thirst

And pain will flee away

And that dark val­ley

Where the dead are ly­ing

Smile like a gar­den

Where no flow­ers decay.

The win­try wind

In vain shall wave its pin­ion

O’er my de­fense­less

Head if Thou art nigh!

Ocean’s rough bi­llows

’Neath Thy strong do­min­ion

Still as a child

In cra­dle-sleep shall lie.

Soft clouds will tem­per

Rays too fierce­ly burn­ing

If Thou my wea­ry

Feet will guide

sus­tain;

And through the toil

And tears

and rest­less yearn­ing

Thy migh­ty love

Will soothe the sharp­est pain.

I hear Thee in

The bird that greets the morn­ing;

I see Thee in

The mea­dow’s frag­rant bloom;

In gorg­eous clouds

The sun­set hours adorn­ing—

Nor less with­in

The por­tals of the tomb.

Through flick­er­ing leaves

The moon­beams gent­ly fall­ing

The ze­phyr dy­ing

O’er a wave­less sea

The night-bird to

His bro­ther softly call­ing

All lead my spir­it

Upward un­to Thee!

And when from life

And light

and beau­ty

fling­ing

Its rain­bow hues

Around where’er I tread

I must go forth

No death­less want up­spring­ing

Shall fet­ter wings

Too long in vain out­spread.