Psalm XLII

As for the streames the hunted hart doth bray,
Soe for God's grace my heart doth pant and pray.
My soule doth thirst (O God of life!) for Thee,
When shall I come Thy blessed face to see?
My teares are all my food both night and day,
While 'where is now thy God?' the wicked say.
I powrèd out my hart, while thus I thought
And to God's House the multitude I brought:
With songs of praise and thankfullnes withall,
To celebrate the Lord's great festiuall:
Then why art thou my soule soe full of woe,
Vnquiet in thyselfe and vexèd soe?
O put thy trust in God and thankfull bee,
For his sweet helpe His presence yields to Thee.
My soule is greiu'd remembringe all the ill
I felt in JORDAN'S vale and HERMON hill.
One depth of sorrow doth to another call,
Thy waves O God haue ouergon mee all:
I prais'd at night God's bounty of the day,
And vnto Him that giues mee life did pray.
God of my strength, why hast Thou left mee soe,
With heauy hart oppressèd by my foe?
My foe doth cut my bones as with a sword,
While hee in scorne repeats this bitter word,
'Where is thy God?' his speech to mee is such:
'Where is thy God, of which thou talk'st soe much?'
But why art thou my soule dejected soe?
Why art thou trubled and soe full of woe?
Trust thou in God, and giue Him thankfull praise
Who is Thy present helpe in all thy wayes.