Psalms 11

1 IN the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?

“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 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.

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 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

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

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.

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 The Lord trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

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

6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.

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

7 For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.

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