1 As pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase,
So longs my soul, O Lord, for thee,
And thy refreshing grace.

2 For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;
O when shall I behold thy face,
Thou majesty divine!

3 I sigh to think of happier days,
When thou, O Lord, wast nigh,
When every heart was tuned to praise,
And none more blest than I.

4 Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Hope still, and thou shalt sing
The praise of him who is thy God,
Thy health’s eternal spring.