As thirsts the hart for water brooks,
so thirsts my soul, O God, for thee;
it seeks for God, and ever looks
and longs the living God to see,
and longs the living God to see.
Far from the courts of God, my tears
have been my food by night and day,
while constantly with bitter sneers,
“Where is thy God?” the scoffers say,
“Where is thy God?” the scoffers say.
With grief I think of days gone by,
when oft I trod the hallowed way
to Zion, praising God on high
with throngs who kept the holy day,
with throngs who kept the holy day.
O why art thou cast down, my soul,
and why so troubled shouldst thou be?
Hope thou in God, and him extol,
who gives his saving help to me,
who gives his saving help to me.