As pants the hare for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase
So longs my soul, O God, for Thee,
And Thy refreshing grace.
For Thee,my God,the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine:
O when shall I behold Thy face,
Thou Majesty divine?
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.