Psalms 11

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.


In the LORD I put 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 secretly shoot at the upright in heart.
privily: Heb. in darkness
3If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

4The LORD is in his holy temple, the LORD’S throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men. 5The LORD 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 LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance beholdeth the upright.

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