الْمَزْمُورُ
الْحَادِي عَشَرَ

 

Psalm
11

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

1
In the LORD put I 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 an horrible
tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.

7
For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the
upright.