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Poem by Philip Sidney
The Lord, the Lord, my Shepherd is, And so can never I Taste misery: He rests me in green pastures His: By waters still and sweet, He guides my feet. He me revives; leads me the way Which righteousness doth take, For his name's sake: Yea, though I should through valleys stray Of death's dark shade, I will No whit fear ill. For Thou, dear Lord, Thou me besettest Thy rod and thy staff be To comfort me: Before me Thou a table settest, Even when foe's envious eye Doth it espy. Thou oilst my head, Thou fillest my cup; Nay more, Thou endless good, Shalt give me food. To Thee, I say, ascended up, Where Thou, the Lord of all, Dost hold thy hall.
Philip Sidney's other poems:
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