The poem
The shepherd Christ from heav'n arriv'd, My flesh and spirit feeds; I shall not therefore be depriv'd Of all my nature needs.
As slop'd against the glist'ning beam The velvet verdure swells, He keeps, and leads me by the stream Where consolation dwells.
My soul He shall from sin restore, And her free pow'rs awake, In paths of heav'nly truth to soar, For love and mercy's sake.
Yea, tho' I walk death's gloomy vale, The dread I shall disdain; For Thou art with me, lest I fail, To check me and sustain.
Thou shalt my plenteous board appoint Before the braving foe; Thine oil and wine my head anoint, And make my goblet flow.
But great still Thy love and grace Shall all my life attend; And in Thine hallow'd dwelling place My knees shall ever bend.
Nice treatment of a very favourite psalm. It seems that poor old Smart was in life much taken with doing the last line of this poem, and ended up in a madhouse ,it appears for being somewhat OTT on religion - a bit sad I'd say and not unlike John Clare. I mean, we dont seem to hear of either of them doing anything really bad!! Was there some kind of bailiffing or policing whereby, if you stopped someone on the street enough times asking them to pray for you, you'd be taken away and locked up as a madman? I seem to recollect that John Bunyan also did time and was, well,---rather religious.