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!

“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 gudløse spænder Buen, lægger Pilen til Rette paa Strengen for i Mørke at ramme 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 Naar selv Grundpillerne styrter, hvad gør den retfærdige da?«

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

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 hath his throne in the heavens, his eyes behold, his eyelids prove, the children of men.

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

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

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

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

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

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