As panting deer desire the waterbrooks
when wandering in a dry and desert place,
so yearns my thirsty soul for you, O God,
and longs at last to see you face to face.
Both day and night my tears have been my food,
while scoffers taunt me, "Where is your God now?"
My soul dissolves as I recall the throng
whose pilgrim hymns I led to Zion's brow.
Why are you heavy-hearted, O my soul?
And why are you so mired in deep discord?
Still put your hope and trust in God alone,
whom I will praise, my Savior and my Lord.