Psalms 11

1 In Yhwh put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?

To the victorie of Dauid. I triste in the Lord; hou seien ye to my soule, Passe thou ouere in to an hil, as a sparowe doith?

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! synneris han bent a bouwe; thei han maad redi her arowis in an arowe caas; `for to schete in derknesse riytful men in herte.

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

For thei han distryed, whom thou hast maad perfit; but what dide the riytful man?

4 Yhwh is in his holy temple, Yhwh's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.

The Lord is in his hooli temple; he is Lord, his seete is in heuene. Hise iyen biholden on a pore man; hise iyelidis axen the sones of men.

5 Yhwh trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

The Lord axith a iust man, and vnfeithful man; but he, that loueth wickidnesse, hatith his soule.

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

He schal reyne snaris on `synful men; fier, brymston, and the spirit of tempestis ben the part of the cuppe of hem.

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

For the Lord is riytful, and louede riytfulnessis; his cheer siy equite, `ethir euennesse.