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Scottish Psalter: Psalm 42

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Psalm 42: Like as the hart for water-brooks

To the chief Musician, Maschil, for the sons of Korah.

Meter: C.M. (8,6,8,6)

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:

For yet I know I shall him praise, who graciously to me The health is of my countenance, yea, mine own God is he.