Classic Poem

PSAIM XLII .

Qucmadmodum.

1.

As the chased hart, which brayeth
Seeking some refreshing brook,
So my soul in panting playeth,
Thirsting on my God to look.
My soul thirsts indeed in mee
After ever living Thee;
Ah, when comes my blessed being,
Of Thy face to haue a seing

2.

Daye and night my teares out flowing
Haue been my ill-feeding food,
With their dayly questions throwing;
Where is now thy God so good?
My heart melts remembring so,
How in troops I wont to go:
Leading them, His prayses singing,
Holy daunce to God's house bringing

3.

Why art thou, my soul, so sorry,
And in me so much dismaid?
Wait on God, for yet His glory
In my song shall be display'd
When but with one look of His
He shall me restore to blisse:
Ah, my soul it self appaleth,
In such longing thoughts it falleth.

4.

For my mind on my God bideth,
Ev'n from Hermon's dwelling led,
From the grounds where Jordan slideth,
And from Mizzar's hilly head.
One deep with noyse of his fall
Other deeps of woe doth call:
While my God, with wasting wonders,
On me, wretch, His tempest thunders,

5.

All Thy floods on me abounded,
Over me all Thy waues went:
Yet thus still my hope is grounded
That, Thy anger being spent,
I by day Thy loue shall tast,
I by night shall singing last,
Praying, prayers still bequeathing,
To my God that gaue me breathing.

6.

I will say, O Lord, my tower,
Why am I forgott by Thee?
Why should grief my heart devower,
While the foe oppresseth me?
Those vile scoffes of naughty ones
Wound and rent me to the bones,
When foes ask, with foule deriding,
Where hath now yor God His biding?

7.

Why art thou, my soul, so sorry,
And in me so much dismaid?
Wait on God, for yet His glory
In my song shall be displayd.
Vnto Him a songe of praise
Still my thankfull heart shall raise;
He who helpes my case distressed,
Even my God for ever blessed.