Psalm 42

Common Metre (8,6,8,6)

Suggested Tunes: 67 Glencairn, 145 Wetherby, 68 Glenluce, 133 Spohr, 57 Elgin

1    Like as the hart for water-brooks

            in thirst doth pant and bray;

      So pants my longing soul, O God,

            that come to thee I may.

2    My soul for God, the living God,

            doth thirst: when shall I near

      Unto thy countenance approach,

            and in God’s sight appear?

3    My tears have unto me been meat,

            both in the night and day,

      While unto me continually,

            Where is thy God? they say.

4    My soul is poured out in me,

            when this I think upon;

      Because that with the multitude

            I heretofore had gone:

      With them into God’s house I went,

            with voice of joy and praise;

      Yea, with the multitude that kept

            the solemn holy days.

5    O why art thou cast down, my soul?

            why in me so dismay’d?

      Trust God, for I shall praise him yet,

            his count’nance is mine aid.

6    My God, my soul’s cast down in me;

            thee therefore mind I will

      From Jordan’s land, the Hermonites,

            and ev’n from Mizar hill.

7    At the noise of thy water-spouts

            deep unto deep doth call;

      Thy breaking waves pass over me,

            yea, and thy billows all.

8    His loving-kindness yet the Lord

            command will in the day,

      His song’s with me by night; to God,

            by whom I live, I’ll pray:

9    And I will say to God my rock,

            Why me forgett’st thou so?

      Why, for my foes’ oppression,

            thus mourning do I go?

10  ’Tis as a sword within my bones,

            when my foes me upbraid;

      Ev’n when by them, Where is thy God?

            ’tis daily to me said.

11  O why art thou cast down, my soul?

            why, thus with grief opprest,

      Art thou disquieted in me?

            in God still hope and rest:

11  For yet I know I shall him praise,

            who graciously to me

      The health is of my countenance,

            yea, mine own God is he.