As the hart panteth after the water brooks,
so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
My soul thirsteth for God,
for the living God:
when shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my meat day and night,
while they continually say unto me,
Where is thy God?
When I remember these things,
I pour out my soul in me:
for I had gone with the multitude,
I went with them to the house of God,
with the voice of joy and praise,
with a multitude that kept holyday.
Why art thou cast down, O my soul?
and why art thou disquieted in me?
hope thou in God:
for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.