Psalm XLII.
1
As thirsting heart doth pant and long
The water-brooks to see:
So is my soul inflam'd with thirst,
And pants, O Lord for thee.
2
It thirsts for God, the living God,
Nor can his absence bear:
But still cries out, O when shall I,
Before his face appear?
3
My tears have been my daily food,
To hear blasphemers cry,
O where is now that God of thine,
On whom thou didst rely?
4
My soul doth melt, to call to mind,
What throngs on holy days,
Unto the temple follow'd me,
With psalms and songs of praise.
5
But why art thou cast down, my soul,
And why so much in pain?
Hope still in God: for I shall praise
My Saviour once again.
6
O God my soul is troubled sore,
Yet will I think on thee,
From Jordan and from Hermon hill,
Where I am forc'd to flee.
7
The floods beneath and from above,
To swallow me agree:
Thy mighty billows and thy waves.
Are all gone over me.
8
Yet still the Lord from day to day,
His mercy will extend:
And I to him will every night,
Both praise and prayer send.
9
Why, O my rock, I then will say,
Hast thou forgot me so?
And why opprest by enemies,
Do I lamenting go?
10
Their vile reproaches wound my heart,
And pierce me like a sword:
While every day I hear them say,
Where now is God thy Lord.
11
But why art thou cast down, my soul,
And why so much in pain?
Hope still in God: for I shall praise
My Saviour once again.
