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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PSALM 42. QUEMADMODUM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE

First Line: AS THE CHAFED HART WHICH BRAYETH
Last Line: GOD IS MY GOD, BY ME PRAISED.
As the chafed hart which brayeth
Seeking some refreshing brook,
So my soul in panting playeth,
Thirsting on my God to look.
My soul thirsts indeed in me
After ever-living Thee;
Ah, when comes my blessed being,
Of Thy face to have a seeing?

Day and night my tears out-flowing
Have been my ill feeding food;
With their daily questions throwing:
Where is now Thy God so good?
My heart melts remembering so
How in troops I wont to go,
Leading them His praises singing,
Holy dance to God's house bringing.

Why art thou, my soul, so sorry
And in me so much dismayed?
Wait on God, for yet His glory
In my song shall be displayed.
When but with one look of His
He shall me restore to bliss,
Ah my soul itself appalleth,
In such longing thoughts it falleth.

For my mind on my God bideth,
Ev'n from Hermon's dwelling led;
From the grounds where Jordan slideth
And from Mizzar's hilly head.
One deep with noise of his fall
Other deeps of woes doth call,
While my God with wasting wonders
On me wretch His tempest thunders.

All Thy flood on me abounded;
Over me all Thy waves went;
Yet thus still my hope is grounded,
That Thy anger being spent,
I by day Thy love shall tast,
I by night shall singing last,
Praying, prayers still bequeathing
To my God that gave me breathing.

I will say: O Lord, my tower,
Why am I forgot by Thee?
Why should grief my heart devour,
While the foe oppresseth me?
Those vile scoffs of naughty ones
Wound and rent me to the bones,
When foes ask with foul deriding,
Where hath now your God His biding?

Why art thou, my soul, so sorry,
And in me so much dismayed?
Wait on God, for yet His glory
In my song shall be displayed.
To Him my thanks shall be said,
Who is still my present aid;
And in fine my soul be raised,
God is my God, by me praised.



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