The sheep-keepin o' the Lord's kind an' canny,
wi' a braw howff at long last;
David keeps his sheep; the Lord keeps David.
A 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 names 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 the face o' my faes;
ye hae drookit my head wi' oyle;
my bicker is fu' an' skailin.
E'en sae, 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, sal I mak bydan.
~Scottish Translation by P. Hately Waddell (1817-1891)
Read this out loud to hear the beauty of this much loved Psalm.