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
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
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
Thy cross before to guide me