Classic Poem

BY FRANCIS DAVISON .

I.

God, who the universe doth hold
In his fold,
Is my shepherd, kind and heedful;
Is my shepherd, and doth keep
Me, his sheep,
Still supplied with all things needful.

II.

He feeds me in fields, which been
Fresh and green,
Mottled with spring's flow'ry painting,
Through which creep, with murmuring crooks,
Crystal brooks,
To refresh my spirits fainting.

III.

When my soul from Heaven's way
Went astray,
With earth's vanities seduced,
For his name's sake kindly He
Wand'ring me
To his holy fold reduced.

IV.

Yea, though I stray through Death's vale,
Where his pale
Shades did on each side enfold me,
Dreadless, having thee for guide,
Should I bide;
For thy rod and staff uphold me.

V.

Thou my board with messes large
Dost surcharge;
My bowls full of wine thou pourest;
And before mine enemies'
Envious eyes,
Balm upon my head thou showerest.

VI.

Neither dures thy bounteous grace
For a space;
But it knows nor bound nor measure:
So my days to my life's end
I shall spend
In thy courts with heav'nly pleasure.