The Lord Is My Shepherd (Orrock)

The Lord is my shep­herd

my guard and my guide;

Whatever I need He will kind­ly pro­vide;

E’er since I was born

it is He who has crowned

The life which He gave me with bless­ings all around.

While yet on the breast a poor in­fant I hung

E’er time had un­loos­èd the strings of my tongue;

He gave me the help which I then could not ask

Now there­fore to praise Him shall be my tongue’s task.

Through ten­der­est years with as ten­der a care

My soul

like a lamb

in His bo­som He bare;

To brook He would lead me when­e’er I had need

And point out the pas­tures where best I might feed.

No harm could ap­proach me

for He was my shield

From fowls of the air and beasts of the field;

The wolf to de­vour me did oft­en­times prowl

But God was my shep­herd

and guard­ed my soul.

How oft in my youth did I wan­der as­tray;

But al­ways He brought me back to the nar­row way;

When lost in dark er­ror

no path or re­treat

His word like a lan­tern still guid­ed my feet.

What won­drous es­capes to His kind­ness I owe

When rash and un­guard­ed

I sought my own woe!

My soul long ere now would have been in the deep

If God had not watch­èd when I was asleep.

Whene’er at a dist­ance

He sees me afraid

He flies o’er the mount­ains and comes to my aid

Then leads me back gent­ly and bids me ab­ide

In His flock en­fold­ed

kept close by His side.

How safe in His keep­ing

how hap­py and free

I al­ways have re­fuge where He bids me be!

Yea

blest are the people

and hap­py thrice told

Who hear the Lord’s voice

and ab­ide in His fold.

The fount­ain is full

and the pas­ture so green

All friend­ship and love

with no poi­son there­in;

The Lord dwells among them up­on His own hill

His flock all around Him

await­ing His will.

Himself in the midst with a pro­vi­dent eye

Regarding their wants and pro­vid­ing sup­ply;

Abundance springs up of most nour­ish­ing food:

The flocks are all fed by their ge­ner­ous God.

By His voice or sign do they move or they stay:

The Lord is Him­self both their lead­er and way;

Whate’er the con­di­tion He plac­es them in

It al­ways is best

and they’re hap­py there­in.

In hun­ger or thirst

or if rea­dy to faint

Relief in due sea­son pre­vents the com­plaint;

The rain of His Word brings them food from the sky—

The rocks become riv­ers

the dust no long­er dry.

From blos­som­ing hills to the hard

bar­ren rock

The Lord has made all for the good of His flock;

The flock in re­turn doth their great Lord con­fess

In plen­ty their joy

and their hope in dis­tress

We see in their wel­fare His glo­ry dis­played;

And they find their bliss in obe­di­ence re­paid.

With cheer­ful regard they at­tend to His ways:

Attention in pray­er

and hap­pi­ness in praise.

The Lord is my shep­herd: What then shall I fear?

No dan­ger shall fright me while He is so near;

For I know His judg­ments

when me they have tried

Will bring me and seat me down close by His side.

The Lord He is good

and His mer­cy is sure

He on­ly af­flicts me in or­der to cure;

The Lord

I will praise Him

as long as I’ve breath

Content all my days

and re­signed at my death.