I Am They - King Of Love Lyrics

Lyrics

The King of Love my Shepherd is

Whose goodness faileth never

I nothing lack if I am His

And He is mine forever

Where streams of living water flow

My ransomed soul He leadeth

And where the verdant pastures grow

With food celestial feedeth

Never failing, Ruler of my heart

Everlasting, Lover of my soul

On the mountain high or in the valley low

The King of Love my Shepherd is

Lost and foolish off I strayed

But yet in love He sought me

And on His shoulder gently laid

And home rejoicing brought me

In death’s dark veil I fear no ill

With Thee, dear Lord, beside me

Thy rod and staff my comfort still

Thy cross before to guide me

Oh, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

And so through all the length of days

Thy goodness faileth never

Good Shepherd, may I sing Your praise

Within Your house forever

Video

I AM THEY - King Of Love: Song Sessions

Meaning & Inspiration

I Am They takes a hymn that’s been floating around since the 19th century and gives it a modern gloss, but I’m standing here wondering if the gloss makes the sharp edges go dull. "The King of Love my Shepherd is" is the kind of line that feels good when the bank account is full and the air conditioner is humming, but what happens when the floor drops out?

There’s this one line: "On the mountain high or in the valley low." It’s the classic Sunday School shorthand for 'life has its ups and downs.' But in the real world, the valley isn't just a metaphor for a bad mood or a minor setback. It’s the waiting room at the oncology ward. It’s the silence of a house after a spouse walks out. When you’re staring at a stack of severance paperwork, "verdant pastures" start to sound like a cruel joke. If the Shepherd is truly there, why is the grass so brown and the water so dry?

The song leans hard into the idea that "I nothing lack if I am His." That’s a bold claim. It’s the kind of thing that borders on Cheap Grace if we’re not careful. It’s easy to sing about lacking nothing when you’re standing in a well-lit studio with a microphone. But look at the cross mentioned later in the song. Jesus didn't "lack" a cross. He lacked everything—his friends, his comfort, his dignity, his life. If being His means following Him, then "lacking nothing" can’t mean a life free of hardship or loss. It has to mean something much more rugged.

Maybe it means that even when everything else is stripped away—the health, the job, the reputation—there is a presence that refuses to leave the room.

Psalm 23, which this song riffs on, doesn't promise an easy life. It promises a guide through the shadow of death. It doesn't say the shadow disappears; it says we walk through it. There’s a massive difference.

I struggle with the "Hallelujahs" at the end of this version. They feel a bit rushed, like we’re trying to jump over the tension of the "valley low" to get to the party at the end. I’d rather sit in the quiet, in the uncertainty of why the rod and staff feel so far away sometimes. If God is a Shepherd, he’s dealing with sheep that bite, run away, and get sick. That’s not a pretty picture. It’s messy, complicated, and often painful.

I’m not sold on the idea that singing about a King makes the reality of a broken life go away. But if there’s any truth in these lyrics, it has to be found in the mud of the valley, not in the comfort of the chorus. I’m still waiting for the kind of faith that survives the silence. Is the Shepherd there when the singing stops? That’s the only question that matters.