My Shep­herd fills my ev­ery need:
For my soul’s good, He came to bleed.
In pas­tures green, He makes me lie,
I rest con­tent be­neath His eye.

With Him I walk by wa­ters still,
And drink the peace of His sweet will.
My tir­ing spir­it He re­stores:
His wine of grace from Cal­v’ry pours.

In right­eous paths He leads me on
From wrath’s dark night to mer­cy’s dawn.
With pro­mise faith­ful as His name,
He swears His love, al­ways the same.

Death’s migh­ty sha­dows cast their pall,
But Je­sus van­quish­es them all,
No ill can touch, nor ev­il harm
The trea­sure kept by God’s own arm.

His rod and staff drive out all fear.
His right­eous robes dry ev­ery tear.
Before my foes, this bread He breaks,
And of His flesh, my soul par­takes.

I smell His oil up­on my head
Whose death shall raise me from the dead.
My cup o’er­flows with Cal­v’ry’s wine:
This blood of God makes hea­ven mine.

Goodness and mer­cy fol­low me;
Through all the days my life shall be,
And in God’s house, His praise to tell,
My ran­somed soul will ev­er dwell.