Salme 11

1 Til Sangmesteren. Af David. Jeg tager min Tilflugt til HERREN! Hvor kan I sige til min Sjæl: »Fly som en Fugl til Bjergene!

Unto the end. A psalm for David. In the Lord I put my trust: how then do you say to my soul: Get thee away from hence to the mountain like a sparrow?

2 Thi se, de gudløse spænder Buen, lægger Pilen til Rette paa Strengen for i Mørke at ramme de oprigtige af Hjertet.

For, lo, the wicked have bent their bow; they have prepared their arrows in the quiver; to shoot in the dark the upright of heart.

3 Naar selv Grundpillerne styrter, hvad gør den retfærdige da?«

For they have destroyed the things which thou hast made: but what has the just man done?

4 HERREN er i sin hellige Hal, i Himlen er HERRENS Trone; paa Jorderig skuer hans Øjne ned, hans Blik ransager Menneskens Børn;

The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord’s throne is in heaven. His eyes look on the poor man: his eyelids examine the sons of men.

5 retfærdige og gudløse ransager HERREN; dem, der elsker Uret, hader hans Sjæl;

The Lord trieth the just and the wicked: but he that loveth iniquity hateth his own soul.

6 over gudløse sender han Regn af Gløder og Svovl, et Stormvejr er deres tilmaalte Bæger.

He shall rain snares upon sinners: fire and brimstone and storms of winds shall be the portion of their cup.

7 Thi retfærdig er HERREN, han elsker at øve Retfærd, de oprigtige skuer hans Aasyn!

For the Lord is just, and hath loved justice: his countenance hath beheld righteousness.