The Deer (Psalm 42)

I’m as a roebuck in a desert clime,
For safety from the hunting wolves I pine,
For water but to cool my panting tongue,
So thirsts my soul to see the Holy One.
I sorely long to meet the living Lord;
When will the fellowship be once restored?
My enemies still taunt and hound my way:
“Where is this fruitless god to which you pray?”
They torment, too, my brothers in the faith,
I weep o’er all the tortures that they face.
They steal our joy, devouring as beef,
And so my soul is all-consumed in grief.
But I remember how we led the praise,
Wholehearted worship to the Lord of Days.
Why am I overcast and, groaning, weep?
No, I will hope. For I’ve a faith to keep.
For once again I’ll give Jehovah praise,
As He has promised me to show me grace.
This time of trial, drought, and distantness,
Will build my trust in God’s great faithfulness.