For the choir director, a song of wisdom, for the sons of Qorach.
Like the stag pressing in
among the courses of water,
so my soul presses in
towards you, O God.
Thirsty is my soul for God -
for El of life -
when shall I go
and see the face of God?
This is my lot: my tears are bread
by day and night
in their speech to me each day,
“Where is your God?”
This I remember and pour out
within my soul,
for I used to pass among the throng, would lead
up to the house of God
with a sound of praise-filled thanks,
the tumult of the festal.
Why then despair, my soul,
and twist in turmoil within me:
keep waiting for God, for yet will I thank him
for his liberating face.
O God of mine, within my soul despairs:
therefore I will remember you from the land of Yorden
and Chermon`s peaks, from Mount Mits‘ar
Deep unto deep calls out
to the sound of your tornados,
all your heaped-up waves
within me have passed over.
By day commands Yahweh his loving kindness
and by night his song beside me.
A prayer to El of my life
which says to El my pinnacle
“What? Have you forgotten me?
That mourning should I go
in the oppression of the enemy,
in the shattering of my bones,
in the taunts of my adversaries
with their speech to me each day,
‘Where is your God?’”
Why then despair, my soul?
And why twist in turmoil within me?
Keep waiting for God, for yet will I thank him
for the liberating face of my God.