Psalms 11

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? For lo, the wicked bend their bow, they arrange their arrow upon the string, to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart. For if the foundations be torn down, what can the righteous do? 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. The Lord proveth the righteous; but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth. He letteth rain upon the wicked burning coals, fire and brimstone; and a glowing wind is the portion of their cup. For righteous is the Lord, he loveth righteousness: his countenance doth behold the upright.
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