1 As after the waterbrooks panteth
The hart, when it sinks in the chase,
So thirsteth my soul, as it fainteth,
For Thee, O my God, and Thy grace;
For Thou art the fount ever living,
Who unto the thirsty art giving
The water of life that I need.

2 Why art thou disquiet within me?
Why art thou cast down, O my soul?
Confide in thy God, let Him win thee!
Still hope in thy God, Him extol!
For surely once dawneth a morrow,
When, freed from thy care and thy sorrow,
Thou praises shalt sing to thy God.

3 His light and His truth, they shall lead me
In peace to His temple at last;
I rest on His Word, he will speed me,
And conflict and sorrow are past;
Yea, joyful I anthems will raise Him,
With heart and with voice will I praise Him
My health and my life and my God.