Psalms 11

PSAL. XI.

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

1In Yhwh put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain? 2For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart.
 privily: Heb. in darkness.
3If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? 4Yhwh is in his holy temple, Yhwh's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men. 5Yhwh trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth. 6Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
 an horrible…: or, a burning tempest.
7For the righteous Yhwh loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.
Copyright information for RLT