With ear­nest long­ings of the mind,
My God, to Thee I look:
So pants the hunt­ed hart to find
And taste the cool­ing brook.

When shall I see Thy courts of grace,
And meet my God again?
So long an ab­sence from Thy face
My heart en­dures with pain.

Temptations vex my wea­ry soul,
And tears are my re­past;
The foe in­sults with­out con­trol,
And where’s your God at last?

’Tis with a mourn­ful plea­sure now
I think on an­cient days;
Then to Thy house did num­bers go,
And all our work was praise.

But why, my soul, sunk down so far,
Beneath this hea­vy load?
Why do my thoughts in­dulge des­pair,
And sin against my God?

Hope in the Lord, whose migh­ty hand
Can all thy woes re­move,
For I shall yet be­fore Him stand,
And sing re­stor­ing love.