Chapter 11

To the chief Musician,¹⁸ [A Psalm] of David.
In the LORD put I my trust:¹ how say⁴ ye to my soul, Flee³ [as] a bird to your mountain?

For, lo, the wicked bend⁴ [their] bow, they make ready³¹ their arrow upon the string, that they may privily ¹¹¹⁹ shoot² at the upright in heart.

If the foundations be destroyed,¹¹ what can the righteous do?¹

The LORD [is] in his holy temple, the LORD'S throne [is] in heaven: his eyes behold,⁴ his eyelids try,⁴ the children of men.

The LORD trieth⁴ the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth⁶ violence his soul hateth.¹

Upon the wicked he shall rain⁵⁵ snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: [this shall be] the portion of their cup.

For the righteous LORD loveth¹ righteousness; his countenance doth behold⁴ the upright.