As the hart longs for flowing streams,
So longs my soul for You, O Yah.
My soul does thirst for the living God.
When shall I come to see Your face?

My tears have fed me day and night
While men have said “Where is your God?”
But I recall as my soul pours dry
The days of praise within Your house.

Why do I mourn and toil within,
When it is mine to hope in God?
I shall again sing praise to Him.
He is my help, He is my God.