Like as the Hart

My soul, why art thou sad always,

and frettest thus in my breast!

Trust still in God, for him to praise I hold it ever best.

Like as the hart doth pant and pray,

the wellsprings to obtain;

so doth my soul desire alway,

with thee, Lord, to remain.

My soul doth thirst, and would draw near

the living God of might;

Oh, when shall I come and appear

in presence of his sight.

Alas, what grief is it to think

the freedom once I had!

Therefore my soul, as at pit's brink,

most heavy is and sad.

For I did march in good array,

in joyful company,

unto the temple was our way

to praise the Lord most high.

By him I succor have at need

against all pain and grief;

he is my God who with all speed

doth haste to send relief.

Like as the hart doth pant and bray,

the wellsprings to obtain;

so doth my soul desire alway,

with thee, Lord, to remain.