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Psalms 11

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11:1  In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?
11:2  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.
11:3  If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
11:4  The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
11:5  The Lord trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
11:6  Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
11:7  For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.
 
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