Psalm 42:1 MSG

[1] A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep drafts of God. I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it—arrive and drink in God’s presence?” I’m on a diet of tears—tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, “Where is this God of yours?”