| The king of love my shepherd is,
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| Whose goodness faileth never;
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| I nothing lack if I am his
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| And he is mine for ever.
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| Where streams of living water flow
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| My ransomed soul he leadeth,
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| And where the verdant pastures grow
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| With food celestial feedeth.
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| Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
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| But yet in love he sought me,
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| And on his shoulder gently laid,
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| And home rejoicing brought me.
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| In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
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| With thee, dear Lord, beside me;
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| Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
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| Thy cross before to guide me.
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| Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
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| Thy unction grace bestoweth;
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| And O what transport of delight
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| From thy pure chalice floweth!
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| And so through all the length of days
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| Thy goodness faileth never:
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| Good shepherd, may I sing thy praise
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| Within thy house for ever. |