Like as the hart for water-brooks

Verse 1

Like as the hart for water-brooks in thirst doth pant and bray; So pants my longing soul, O God, that come to thee I may.

Verse 2

My soul for God, the living God, doth thirst: when shall I near Unto thy countenance approach, and in God’s sight appear?

Verse 3

My tears have unto me been meat, both in the night and day, While unto me continually, Where is thy God? they say.

Verse 4

My soul is poured out in me, when this I think upon; Because that with the multitude I heretofore had gone: With them into God’s house I went, with voice of joy and praise; Yea, with the multitude that kept the solemn holy days.

Verse 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.

Verse 6

My God, my soul’s cast down in me; thee therefore mind I will From Jordan’s land, the Hermonites, and ev’n from Mizar hill.

Verse 7

At the noise of thy water-spouts deep unto deep doth call; Thy breaking waves pass over me, yea, and thy billows all.

Verse 8

His loving-kindness yet the Lord command will in the day, His song’s with me by night; to God, by whom I live, I’ll pray:

Verse 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?

Verse 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.

Verse 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 me The health is of my countenance, yea, mine own God is he.