| Chapter 11 |
1 |
To the chief Musician, [A Psalm] of David. In the LORD put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee [as] a bird to your mountain? --
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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. --
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3 |
If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? --
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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. --
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5 |
The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth. --
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6 |
Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: [this shall be] the portion of their cup. --
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7 |
For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright. --
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