As the deer cries for water
							
																								
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									O God, I need you very much as a deer needs to drink water from a cool stream.
								
							 
																								
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									I desire to be with you, the all-powerful God. I say to myself, “When will I be able to go back to the temple in Israel and worship in your presence again?”
								
							 
																								
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									Every day and every night I weep; the only thing I have to drink is my tears; and while I do that, my enemies are always asking me, “Why does your God not help you?”
								
							 
																								
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									I pray earnestly to God as I remember when I used to go with the crowd of people to the temple in Jerusalem. I used to lead them as we walked along; we were all shouting joyfully and singing to thank God for what he had done; we were a large group who were celebrating.
								
							 
																								
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									So now I say to myself, “Why am I in a panic? I confidently expect God to bless me, and again I will praise him, my God, the one who saves me.”
								
							 
																								
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									But now, Yahweh, I was panicking, so I think about you. You are there in Israel where the Jordan River rushes down from the bottom of the peaks of Mount Hermon and from Mount Mizar.
								
							 
																								
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									But here, the great sorrow that I feel is like water that you send down; it is like a waterfall that tumbles down and floods over me.
								
							 
																								
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									I desire that Yahweh will show me each day that he faithfully loves me, in order that each night I may sing to him and pray to him, the God who causes me to live.
								
							 
																								
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									I say to God, who is like a huge rock on top of which I am safe, “Why have you forgotten me? You know the hardships that my enemies bring on me.”
								
							 
																								
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									They are always making fun of me; they keep asking, “Why does your God not help you?” When they insult me like that, it is like wounds that shatter my bones.
								
							 
																								
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									But I say to myself, “Why am I in a panic? I will confidently expect God to bless me, and I will praise him again, my God, the one who saves me.”
								
							 
																						
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