42 1-3 A white-tailed deer drinks
    from the creek;
I want to drink God,
    deep drafts of God.
I’m thirsty for God-alive.
I wonder, “Will I ever make it—
    arrive and drink in God’s presence?”
I’m on a diet of tears—
    tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
All day long
    people knock at my door,
Pestering,
    “Where is this God of yours?”

These are the things I go over and over,
    emptying out the pockets of my life.
I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,
    right out in front,
Leading them all,
    eager to arrive and worship,
Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—
    celebrating, all of us, God’s feast!

Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
    Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
    soon I’ll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
    He’s my God.

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My tears(A) have been my food
    day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”(B)
These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:(C)
how I used to go to the house of God(D)
    under the protection of the Mighty One[a]
with shouts of joy(E) and praise(F)
    among the festive throng.(G)

Why, my soul, are you downcast?(H)
    Why so disturbed(I) within me?
Put your hope in God,(J)
    for I will yet praise(K) him,
    my Savior(L) and my God.(M)

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Footnotes

  1. Psalm 42:4 See Septuagint and Syriac; the meaning of the Hebrew for this line is uncertain.