Psalm 11.

1  I in the Lord do put my trust:
       how is it then that ye
    Say to my soul, Flee, as a bird,
       unto your mountain high?

 2  For, lo, the wicked bend their bow,
       their shafts on string they fit,
    That those who upright are in heart
       they privily may hit.

 3  If the foundations be destroyed,
       what hath the righteous done?
 4  God in his holy temple is,
       in heaven is his throne:

    His eyes do see, his eye-lids try
 5     men's sons. The just he proves:
    But his soul hates the wicked man,
       and him that vi'lence loves.

 6  Snares, fire and brimstone, furious storms,
       on sinners he shall rain:
    This, as the portion of their cup,
       doth unto them pertain.

 7  Because the Lord most righteous doth
       in righteousness delight;
    And with a pleasant countenance
       beholdeth the upright.



 

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