Psalm XXIII

Henry Williams Baker (1821–1877)


THE KING of love my shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never:
I nothing lack if I am his,
And he is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow         5
My ransomed soul he leadeth,
And where the verdant pastures grow
With food celestial feedeth.

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love he sought me         10
And on his shoulder gently laid
And home rejoicing brought me.

In death's dark vale I fear no ill
With thee, dear Lord, beside me,
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,         15
Thy cross before to guide me.

Thou spread'st a table in my sight,
Thy unction grace bestoweth,
And O! what transport of delight
From thy pure chalice floweth!         20

And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
Within thy house forever.



I have always enjoyed good writing. To be able to take Psalm 23 and get it into the above form--not losing the gist or intent--marks a really good writer AS a really good writer. Although I do not share many of the 'ideas' put forth regarding Christianity, hymns have always held a special place in my heart, likely a love placed in me when I was first accepted to sing in a choir by an Anglican church in Montreal. Even within the confines of choir singing, there is room for an exploration of one's voice and phrasing, intonation and diction. Loved it then and still love to hear hymns sung by one or many people.