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Psalm 42

To the chief Musician, Maschil, for the sons of Korah.

8,6,8,6

1Like as the hart for water-brooks

in thirst doth pant and bray;

So pants my longing soul, O God,

that come to thee I may.

2My soul for God, the living God,

doth thirst: when shall I near

Unto thy countenance approach,

and in God’s sight appear?

3My tears have unto me been meat,

both in the night and day,

While unto me continually,

Where is thy God? they say.

4My soul is poured out in me,

when this I think upon;

Because that with the multitude

I heretofore had gone:

With them into God’s house I went,

with voice of joy and praise;

Yea, with the multitude that kept

the solemn holy days.

5O why art thou cast down, my soul?

why in me so dismay’d?

Trust God, for I shall praise him yet,

his count’nance is mine aid.

6My God, my soul’s cast down in me;

thee therefore mind I will

From Jordan’s land, the Hermonites,

and ev’n from Mizar hill.

7At the noise of thy water-spouts

deep unto deep doth call;

Thy breaking waves pass over me,

yea, and thy billows all.

8His loving-kindness yet the Lord

command will in the day,

His song’s with me by night; to God,

by whom I live, I’ll pray:

9And I will say to God my rock,

Why me forgett’st thou so?

Why, for my foes’ oppression,

thus mourning do I go?

10’Tis as a sword within my bones,

when my foes me upbraid;

Ev’n when by them, Where is thy God?

’tis daily to me said.

11O why art thou cast down, my soul?

why, thus with grief opprest,

Art thou disquieted in me?

in God still hope and rest:

For yet I know I shall him praise,

who graciously to me

The health is of my countenance,

yea, mine own God is he.

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