Psalms 11

1 To the chief Musician, [A Psalm] of David. In the LORD 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 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 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 The LORD 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 LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.

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