1 Like as the hart for water-brooksin thirst doth pant and bray;So pants my longing soul, O God,that come to thee I may.
2 My soul for God, the living God,doth thirst: when shall I nearUnto thy countenance approach,and in God's sight appear?
3 My tears have unto me been meat,both in the night and day,While unto me continually,Where is thy God? they say.
4 My soul is poured out in me,when this I think upon;Because that with the multitudeI heretofore had gone:With them into God's house I went,with voice of joy and praise;Yea, with the multitude that keptthe solemn holy days.
5 O why art thou cast down, my soul?why in me so dismay'd?Trust God, for I shall praise him yet,his count'nance is mine aid.
6 My God, my soul's cast down in me;thee therefore mind I willFrom Jordan's land, the Hermonites,and ev'n from Mizar hill.
7 At the noise of thy water-spoutsdeep unto deep doth call;Thy breaking waves pass over me,yea, and thy billows all.
8 His loving-kindness yet the Lordcommand will in the day,His song's with me by night; to God,by whom I live, I'll pray:
9 And I will say to God my rock,Why me forgett'st thou so?Why, for my foes' oppression,thus mourning do I go?
10 'Tis as a sword within my bones,when my foes me upbraid;Ev'n when by them, Where is thy God?'tis daily to me said.
11 O why art thou cast down, my soul?why, thus with grief opprest,Art thou disquieted in me?in God still hope and rest:For yet I know I shall him praise,who graciously to meThe health is of my countenance,yea, mine own God is he.