In exile, the psalmist remembers the years of grace.
1* 2As a deer longs for flowing streams,
so my soul longs for you, O God.
3My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I go and see the face of God?
4Day and night my tears have been my food,
as people ask me day after day,
“Where is your God?”
5Now as I pour out my soul,
I remember all this –
how I used to lead the faithful
in procession to the house of God,
amid shouts of joy and thanksgiving,
among the feasting throng.
6Why are you so downcast, my soul,
why so troubled within me?
Hope in God, for I will praise him again,
my savior and my God.
7My soul is downcast when I remember
from these lands of Jordan and Hermon,
“Where are you, small mountain?”
8Deep calls to deep as your cataracts thunder;
your waves and torrents have gone over me.
9May the Lord bestow his love by day,
by night his song is upon my lips –
a prayer to the God of my life.
10I say to God, my rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”
11My whole being suffers in mortal agony,
as my adversaries continually taunt me,
“Where is your God?”
12Why are you so downcast, my soul,
why so troubled within me?
Hope in God, for again I will praise him –
my savior and my God.
