The Forty-Second Psalm

¶ To the Chief Musician, Maschil, for the Sons of Korah.

1 As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, — so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
2 My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: — when shall I come and appear before God?
3 My tears have been my meat day and night,
While they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?
4 When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me:
For I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God,
With the voice of joy and praise, — with a multitude that kept holy day.
5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? — and why art thou disquieted in me?
Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him
For the help of his countenance [or, His presence is salvation].
6 O my God, my soul is cast down within me:
Therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites,
From the hill Mizar.
7 Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy water-spouts;
All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.
8 Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the day-time,
And in the night his song shall be with me,
And my prayer unto the God of my life.
9 I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me?
Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
10 As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me;
While they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?
11 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? — and why art thou disquieted within me?
Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him,
Who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

The following is an excellent poetical paraphrase of the Psalm, by Bishop Lowth: —

“As pants the wearied hart for cooling springs,
So pants my longing soul, great King of kings!

“On briny tears my famish’d soul hath fed,
‘Say, where is now thy Great Deliverer fled,

“Oft dwell my thoughts on those thrice happy days,
Our mirth was worship, all our pleasure praise,

“Why throb, my heart? why sink, my saddening soul,
My years shall yet in blissful circles roll,

“By Jordan’s banks with devious steps I stray,
E’en there Thy hand shall guide my lonely way,

“In rapid floods the vernal torrents roll,
Thine angry billows overwhelm my soul,

“Yet Thy sure mercies ever in my sight,
And ‘midst the dark and gloomy shades of night,

“Rock of my hope! great Solace of my heart!
While taunting foes thus point th’ invidious dart,

“Why faint, my soul? why doubt Jehovah’s aid?
Within His courts thy thanks shall yet be paid,