Psalms 11

1 “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?

(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 lo, the wicked bend their bow, they arrange their arrow upon the string, to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart.

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

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

Når selv Grundpillerne styrter, hvad gør den retfærdige da?"

4 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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