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TRANSLATION OF PSALM XXIII. 1
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Though in the paths of death I tread,
? This piece was first published in the Spectator.-G.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face;
Reviv'd my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
Has made my cup run o'er,
Has doubled all my store.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy shall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful song I'll raise; For oh! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.
The spacious firmament on high,
1 Originally published in the Spectator.-G.