Psalms 11

For the Chief Musician.

A Psalm

of David.

1 In theLordput I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?

2 For, lo, the wicked bend the bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may shoot in darkness at the upright in heart.

3 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

4 TheLordis in his holy temple, theLord, his throne is in heaven; his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.

5 TheLordtrieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares; fire and brimstone and burning wind shall be the portion of their cup.

7 For theLordis righteous; he loveth righteousness: the upright shall behold his face.

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