AS PANTS THE HART FOR COOLING STREAMS
[1]
As pants the hart for cooling streams
in parched and barren ways
so longs my soul for you, O God,
and your refreshing grace.
[2]
For you my God, the living God.
my thirsting soul will pine:
O when shall I behold your face,
your majesty divine?
[3]
God of my strength, my tears have been
by day and night my food;
the mockers taunt continually
and say: 'Where is your God?'
[4]
Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Hope still, and you shall sing
the praise of him who is your God,
your health's etemal spring.
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