David, King of Israel
Psalm 11 - Poem by David, King of Israel
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.
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