As pants the hart for water brooks My soul pants, Lord, for Thee

1 As pants the hart for water-brooks,
my soul pants, Lord, for thee;
2 for God, the living God, I thirst;
God's courts when shall I see?
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 dismayed?
Trust God, for I shall praise him yet;
his countenance is mine aid.
6 My God, my soul’s cast down in me:
remember thee I will
from Jordan’s land, and Hermon's heights,
even from Mizar hill.

7 At voice of thy great 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 is with me in the night;
to God, my life, I’ll pray.

9 I'll say to God my rock, O why
dost thou forget me so?
For the oppression of my foes
why do I mourning go?
10 ’Tis as a sword within my bones,
when me my foes me upbraid;
even when by them, Where is thy God?
is 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:
for yet I know I shall him praise,
who graciously to me
the health is of my countenance,
yea, mine own God is he.

Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymnbook #P42a