Psalm XLII. Common Metre. The pleasure of public worship

As pants the hart for cooling streams, When heated in the chace; So longs my soul, O God, for thee, And thy refreshing grace.

For thee, my God, the living God, My thirsty soul doth pine; O when shall I behold thy face, Thou majesty divine?

I sigh whene'er my musing thoughts Those happy days present, When I, with my religious friends, Thy temple did frequent.

When I advanc'd with songs of praise, My solemn vows to pay; Amidst the joyful sacred throng, Which kept the festal day.

Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Trust God, and he'll employ His aid for thee; and change thy sighs To hymns of sacred joy.

Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Hope still and thou shall sing, The praise of him who is thy God, Thy health's eternal spring.