Psalm 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? 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