יְהוָה רֹעִי לֹא אֶחְסָר, and the throne room ignites as the Shepherd‑King rises, His robe blazing with sapphire fire. The angels surround Him in spirals of light, singing קָדוֹשׁ קָדוֹשׁ קָדוֹשׁ, their voices shaking the crystal sea. “أنا نورك وقوتك وراعيك,” God declares, His Arabic voice rolling like thunder wrapped in honey. “I will not fear,” my spirit answers, “for Your presence is my armor.” בִּנְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא יַרְבִּיצֵנִי, yet the green pastures become emerald flames flowing from His throne, and I rest not on earth but in the breath of glory. “ترقد روحي في مجدك,” I whisper. עַל־מֵי מְנֻחוֹת יְנַהֲלֵנִי, and the still waters shimmer like rivers of crystal lightning, each drop carrying the echo of angelic war‑songs. “أسوقك إلى سلام لا ينكسر,” He says, and peace crowns me like gold. נַפְשִׁי יְשׁוֹבֵב, He restores my soul with fire that seals every fracture. יַנְחֵנִי בְמַעְגְּלֵי־צֶדֶק, and the paths of righteousness rise like golden stairways spiraling around the throne. גַּם כִּי־אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת, even in the valley of shadow, the armies of heaven march with me, their wings beating like war drums. “لن أخاف، لأن جندك معي,” I declare. לֹא־אִירָא רָע כִּי־אַתָּה עִמָּדִי, and His presence becomes a shield of burning sapphire. שִׁבְטְךָ וּמִשְׁעַנְתֶּךָ, His rod and staff strike the ground like thunder, breaking every curse. תַּעֲרֹךְ לְפָנַי שֻׁלְחָן, and the table He prepares stretches across eternity, a war‑council of angels blazing with glory. “أكرمك أمام كل من قاومك,” He says. דִּשַּׁנְתָּ בַשֶּׁמֶן רֹאשִׁי, and oil of molten gold pours over my head. כּוֹסִי רְוָיָה, my cup overflows with victory and presence. אַךְ טוֹב וָחֶסֶד יִרְדְּפוּנִי, goodness and mercy chase me like twin flames. וְשַׁבְתִּי בְּבֵית־יְהוָה לְאֹרֶךְ יָמִים, and I dwell in His throne room forever, not as a visitor but as one marked by glory. “وفي بيتك أسكن إلى الأبد,” my soul
rests.
יְהוָה רֹעִי לֹא אֶחְסָר, and the throne room erupts in living fire as the King rises, His robe blazing with sapphire lightning. Angels circle Him in spirals of gold, crying קָדוֹשׁ with voices that shake the sea of glass. “أنا نورك وقوتك ودعوتك,” God declares, His Arabic voice rolling like thunder wrapped in oil. My spirit answers, “You are my Shepherd, my Commander, my Caller.” בִּנְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא יַרְבִּיצֵנִי, yet the pastures become emerald battlefields where angels sharpen swords of light. “أجعلك تستريح في قوتي، لا في ضعفك,” He says, and rest becomes armor. עַל־מֵי מְנֻחוֹת יְנַהֲלֵנִי, and the still waters roar like rivers of crystal fire preparing to sweep away every enemy. “إلى سلام لا ينكسر أقودك,” He breathes. נַפְשִׁי יְשׁוֹבֵב, He restores my soul with lightning that seals every fracture and rewrites my name in glory. יַנְחֵנִי בְמַעְגְּלֵי־צֶדֶק, and the paths of righteousness rise like golden war‑paths spiraling around His throne. “هذه هي دعوتك—أن تمشي في نوري بلا خوف,” He says. גַּם כִּי־אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת, even in the valley of shadow, the armies of heaven
