THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM.
By Seb.
“The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” Rev. 7:17. He is my Shepherd, I his sheep;
I do not want to know
Whether the way be soft or steep
By which I am to go.
If green and smooth the mountain be,
I need not ask for more;
If stony, he will carry me,
As he has done before. He is my Shepherd, I his sheep,
We travel onward still,
By pools where water-lilies sleep,
By many a quiet hill;
I feed in many a grassy dell,
I drink the waters clear;
This gracious voice I know so well
Is music to my ear. He is my Shepherd, I his sheep;
I wandered once, I know;
I heard him on the mountains weep
That I should leave him so.
I trembled as I faintly guessed
A sorrow so divine,
For as he clasped me to his breast
The blood gushed forth on mine. He is my Shepherd, I his sheep;
And what if death be near?
The shadows up the valley creep,
And yet I do not fear;
As closer to his side I cling,
I feel the cross so true,
With which his love was pledged to bring,
And safe he has brought me through. He is my Shepherd, I his sheep;
We journey on and on;
At last the smile upon his lips
Shall tell me all is won.
The table that he spreads for me
My foes shall all behold,
And in these trembling fingers see
His cup of royal gold. The cup he put so gently by
When death was drawing near,
He freely fills for such as I,
And tells me not to fear.
And for those funeral odors shed
Upon his dying brow,
He pours the oil of joy instead
On each disciple now. Shepherd! Good Shepherd! Turn and see!
I follow far behind;
The voice of mercy, calling me
Comes borne on every wind.
Set wide the Father's open door,
That I the light may see,
And in his house forevermore
At last abide with Thee.