The Lord is my Shepherd; my wants are a’ kent; the pastur I lie in is growthie and green.

I follow by the lips o’ the watirs o’ Peace.

He heals and sterklie hauds my saul: and airts me, for his ain name’s sake, in a’ the  fit-roads o’ his holiness.

Aye, and though I bude gang throwe the howe whaur the deid-shadows fa’, I’se fear nae skaith nor ill, for that yersel is aye aside me, yere rod and yere cruik they defend me.

My table ye hae plenish’t afore the een o’ my faes; my heid ye hae christit wi’ oyle; my cup is teemin fu’!

And certes, tenderness and mercie sal be my fa’ to the end o’ my days, and syne I’se bide i’ the hoose o’ the Lord, for evir and evir mair!

 

[Somewhat over 100 years ago, William Wye Smith, a Canadian Congregational pastor and a poet, translated the New Testament into the Scottish tongue.  ‘Braid Scots’ he called it – braid being the Scots word for broad.  This 23rd Psaum was the only part of the Old Testament that he translated.  Here is his comment on this Psalm:

David is aye unreelin a pirn aboot Christ.  Here he pents him as a Shepherd, and his sel as a silly bit lammie.  It evens weel wi’ the tenth o’ John.]