Psalm 11

The Refuge of the Upright

11¹ 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 [1] 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 [2] tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup. ⁷ For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.