The Lord my pasture shall prepare
And feed me with a shepherd’s care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant:
To fertile waters and dewey meads
My weary, wand’ring steps he reads:
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall know no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still:
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.

Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smiole
With sudden greens and herbage crown’d,
And streams shall murmur all around.

Joseph Addison (1672-1719) English essayist, poet, statesman

Poem (1712-07-26), “Psalm 23,” The Spectator, No. 441
    (Source)

A translation of Psalm 23 from the Old Testament.