| Chapter 11 |
1 | To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David. In the LORD I put my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain? |
2 | For lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart. |
3 | If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? |
4 | The LORD is in his holy temple, the LORD'S throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try the children of men. |
5 | The LORD trieth 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 a horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup. |
7 | For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance beholdeth the upright. |