113 - As Pants the Hart

As pants the hart 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.
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Then God whom we adore,
Be glory, as it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.