King James Version › Psalms › 11

Psalms

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1 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.