To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.
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.