Though us thou brak'st in dragons' place, and cover'dst with death's shade.
Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, yet will I fear none ill: For thou art with me; and thy rod and staff me comfort still.
Of gladness and of joyfulness make me to hear the voice; That so these very bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
So feeble and infirm am I, and broken am so sore, That, through disquiet of my heart, I have been made to roar.