POETRY: Psalm XXIII by P. Hately Waddell

Psalm XXIII by P. Hately Waddell

The sheep-keepin o’ the Lord’s kind an’ canny, wi’ a braw howff at lang last:
David keeps his sheep; the Lord keeps David.

An heigh-lilt o’ David’s.

The Lord is my herd, nae want sal fa’ me:
He luts me till lie amang green howes; he airts me atowre by the lown watirs:
He waukens my wa’-gen saul; he weises me roun, for his ain name’s sake, intil right roddins.
Na!, tho’ I gang thro’ the dead-mirk-dail; e’en thar, sal I dread ane skaithin:
for yersel are nar-by me; yer stok an’ yer stay haud me baith fu’ cheerie.
My buird ye hae hansell’d in face o’ my faes; ye hae drookit my head wi’ oyle;
my biker is fu’ an’ skailin.
E’en sai, sal gude-guidin’ an’ gude-gree gang wi’ me, ilk day o’ my livin; an’ evir mair syne, i’ the Lord’s ain howff, at lang last, sat I mak bydan.

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