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Psalm 42:1-3
To the choirmaster. A Maskil of the Sons of Korah. As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, "Where is your God?"
My soul craves God, yearns for the living God. Does it or is it a weak and flabby "a sip here and a little drink there," sort of thing? Should not my tongue spiritually be clinging to the roof of my mouth, my bones wasting, my strength spent as I pant for Your refreshing presence? Lord, grant me that consuming thirst.