The Psalms, Translated or Paraphrased in English Verse ::

As pants the Hart for cooling springs,
So longs my Soul, O King of Kings,
Thy face in near approach to see,
So thirsts, great Source of Life, for Thee.
When shall I reach thy blest abode?
When meet the presence of my God?
Tears, Lord, Thou know'st, have been my bread,
By day, by night, profusely shed,
While thus they urge me to despair:
“Where's now thy God, thou Outcast, where?”
While griefs like these beset my soul,
My busied thoughts tumultuous roll;
And oft in luxury of woe
Back to those happier hours I go,
When up fair Sion's high ascent
The Tribes in long procession went,
And, while thy praise in grateful songs
Resounded from a thousand tongues,
I, rank'd amid the festive Train,
Exulting trod thy hallow'd Fane.

Why thus, my Soul, with care oppress'd?
And whence the woes that fill my breast?
In all thy cares, in all thy woes,
On God thy stedfast hope repose;

101

To Him my thanks shall still be paid,
My sure Defence, my constant Aid.

Thy mercies, Lord, before my eyes
Shall yet in sweet remembrance rise,
Though now with mournful step and slow
O'er Jordan's lonely banks I go,
And, exil'd from thy much lov'd Dome,
On distant Hermon pensive roam.
Deeps to confed'rate Deeps aloud
Have call'd, and from the bursting cloud
Their licens'd rage the storms have shed,
And heap'd the billows o'er my head.
Yet 'midst the storm, and 'midst the wave,
Thy Love the beams of comfort gave;
Thy Name to rapture prompts my tongue,
My Joy by day, by night my Song;
To Thee my soul ascends in pray'r,
And in thy bosom pours its care.
God of my strength, attend my cry,
Say why, my great Preserver, why,
Excluded from thy sight I go,
And bend beneath a weight of woe;
Why sharper than the biting steel
Th' insulting Foe's reproach I feel,
While thus they urge me to despair:
“Where's now thy God, thou Outcast, where?”

102

Why thus, my Soul, with care oppress'd?
And whence the woes that fill my breast?
In all thy cares, in all thy woes,
On God thy stedfast hope repose;
To Him my thanks shall still be paid,
My sure Defence, my constant Aid.

University of Virginia Library

PSALM XLII.