| 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?
|
|
| 2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily1 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 horrible2 tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
|
|
| 7 For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.
|
|