Psalms 11

1To the chief Musician. A Psalm of David. In Jehovah have I put my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain? 2For behold, the wicked bend the bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may in darkness shoot at the upright in heart. 3If the foundations be destroyed, what shall the righteous do?

4Jehovah is in the temple of his holiness; Jehovah, --his throne is in the heavens: his eyes behold, his eyelids try the children of men. 5Jehovah trieth the righteous one; but the wicked, and him that loveth violence, his soul hateth. 6Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone; and scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup. 7For righteous is Jehovah; he loveth righteousness, his countenance doth behold the upright.

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