Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 As pants the hart for cooling streams, When heated in the chase, So longs my soul, O God, for thee, And thy refreshing grace. 2 For thee, my God, the living God, My thirsty soul doth pine; O when shall I behold thy face, Thou Majesty divine! 3 Tears are my constant food, while thus insulting foes upbraid: "Deluded wretch! Where's now thy God? And where his promis'd aid?" 4 I sigh when'er my musing thoughts those happy days present, When I with troops of pious friends thy temple did frequent: When I advanc'd with songs of praise my solemn vows to pay, And led the joyful sacred throng, that kept the festal day. 5 Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Trust God, and he'll employ His aid for thee, and change these sighs to thankful hymns of joy. 6 My soul's cast down, O God, but thinks on thee and Sion still: From Jordan's bank, from Hermon's heights, and Missar's humbler hill. 7 One trouble calls another on, and bursting o'er my head, Fall spouting down, till round my soul a roaring sea is spread. 8 But when thy presence, Lord of life, has once dispell'd this storm, To thee I'll midnight anthems sing, and all my vows perform. 9 God of my strength, how long shall I, Like one forgotten, mourn? Forlorn, forsaken, and exposed To my oppressor's scorn. 10 My heart is pierd'd, as with a sword, whilst thus my foes upbraid, "Vain boaster, where is now thy God? and where his promis'd aid?" 11 Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Hope still, and thou shalt sing The praise of him who is thy God, Thy health's eternal spring.