Ps. > Chapter 11

1

IN 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 shoot at the upright in heart.

3

If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

4

The LORD is in his holy temple, the LORD's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.

5

The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

6

Upon the wicked 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 righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.