To the chief Musician, Maschil, for the sons of Korah.
8,6,8,6
1Like 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. |
2My soul for God, the living God, doth thirst: when shall I near Unto thy countenance approach, and in God's sight appear? |
3My tears have unto me been meat, both in the night and day, While unto me continually, Where is thy God? they say. |
4My 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. |
5O 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. |
6My 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. |
7At the noise of thy water-spouts deep unto deep doth call; Thy breaking waves pass over me, yea, and thy billows all. |
8His 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: |
9And 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. |
11O 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. |