THE BOOK OF
PSALMS
PSALM 11
David rejoices that the Lord is in his holy temple—The Lord tests the righteous and hates the wicked.
TO THE CHIEF MUSICIAN, A PSALM OF DAVID.
1
aIn the Lord put I my trust: How say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?
2
For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily ashoot at the upright in heart.
3
If the afoundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
4
The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord’s athrone is in bheaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
5
The Lord atrieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6
Upon the awicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
7
For the righteous Lord loveth arighteousness; bhis countenance doth behold the upright.
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