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What! bowest thou thyself, O my soul? Yea, art thou troubled within me? Wait for God, for still I confess Him: The salvation of my countenance -- My God!

In me doth my soul bow itself, Therefore I remember Thee from the land of Jordan, And of the Hermons, from the hill Mizar.

Deep unto deep is calling At the noise of Thy water-spouts, All Thy breakers and Thy billows passed over me.

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