1 As panting deer desire the waterbrooks
when wandering in a dry and desert place,
so yearns my thristy [sic] soul for you, O God,
and longs at last to see you face to face.

2 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.

3 Why are you heavyhearted, 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.