Chapter 11

PSA.11:1 To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David. In the LORD I put my trust; How can you say to my soul, “Flee as a bird to your mountain”?
PSA.11:2 For look! The wicked bend their bow, They make ready their arrow on the string, That they may shoot secretly at the upright in heart.
PSA.11:3 If the foundations are destroyed, What can the righteous do?
PSA.11:4 The LORD is in His holy temple, The LORD’S throne is in heaven; His eyes behold, His eyelids test the sons of men.
PSA.11:5 The LORD tests the righteous, But the wicked and the one who loves violence His soul hates.
PSA.11:6 Upon the wicked He will rain coals; Fire and brimstone and a burning wind Shall be the portion of their cup.
PSA.11:7 For the LORD is righteous, He loves righteousness; His countenance beholds the upright.

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