Psalms 11

1 To him that excelleth. A Psalme of Dauid. In the Lord put I my trust: howe say yee then to my soule, Flee to your mountaine as a birde?

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

2 For loe, the wicked bende their bowe, and make readie their arrowes vpon the string, that they may secretly shoote at them, which are vpright in heart.

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

3 For the foundations are cast downe: what hath the righteous done?

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

4 The Lord is in his holy palace: the Lordes throne is in the heauen: his eyes wil consider: his eye lids will try the children of men.

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

5 The Lord will try the righteous: but the wicked and him that loueth iniquitie, doeth his soule hate.

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

6 Vpon the wicked he shall raine snares, fire, and brimstone, and stormie tempest: this is the porcion of their cup.

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

7 For the righteous Lord loueth righteousnes: his countenance doeth beholde the iust.

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