1 With earnest longings of the mind, My God, to thee I look; So pants the hunted hart to find And taste the cooling brook.
2 When shall I see thy courts of grace, And meet my God again? So long an absence from thy face My heart endures with pain.
3 Temptations vex my weary soul, And tears are my repast; The foe insults without control, "And where's your God at last?"
4 'Tis with a mournful pleasure now I think on ancient days; Then to thy house did numbers go, And all our work was praise.
5 But why, my soul, sunk down so far Beneath this heavy load? Why do my thoughts indulge despair, And sin against my God?
6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand Can all thy woes remove; For I shall yet before him stand, And sing restoring love.