Salme 11

1 Til Sangmesteren; af David. Jeg haaber paa Herren; hvorledes kunne I da sige til min Sjæl: Fly til eders Bjerg som en Fugl?

“To the chief musician, by David.” In the Lord have I put my trust: how can ye say to my soul, Flee to your mountain as a bird?

2 Thi se, de ugudelige spænde Buen, de berede deres Pil paa Strengen, at skyde i Mørke paa de oprigtige af Hjertet.

For lo, the wicked bend their bow, they arrange their arrow upon the string, to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart.

3 Thi Grundvoldene nedbrydes; hvad kunde en retfærdig udrette?

For [if] the foundations be torn down, what can the righteous do?

4 Herren er i sit hellige Tempel, Herrens Trone er i Himmelen; hans Øjne se, hans Øjenlaage prøve Menneskens Børn.

The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord hath his throne in the heavens, his eyes behold, his eyelids prove, the children of men.

5 Herren prøver en retfærdig; men den ugudelige og den, som elsker Vold, dem hader hans Sjæl.

The Lord proveth the righteous; but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

6 Han skal lade regne Snarer over de ugudelige; Ild og Svovl og et vældigt Stormvejr skal blive deres Bægers Del.

He letteth rain upon the wicked burning coals, fire and brimstone; and a glowing wind is the portion of their cup.

7 Thi Herren er retfærdig, elsker Retfærdighed; hans Ansigt skuer en oprigtig.

For righteous is the Lord, he loveth righteousness: his countenance doth behold the upright.