As The Deer

As the deer longs for flowing streams,
so longs my soul for you, O God.
My soul does thirst for the living God,
when shall I come to see your face?

My tears have fed me day and night,
while some have said, “Where is your God?”
But I recall as my soul pours dry,
the days of praise within your house.

Why do I mourn and toil within,
when it is mine to hope in God?
I shall again sing praise to him,
he is my help, he is my God.

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