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Chapter 11

Psalms 11

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

1

In the LORD put I my trust: how say yee to my soule, Flee as a bird to your mountaine?

2

For loe, the wicked bende their bow, they make ready their arrow vpon the string: that they may priuily shoote at the vpright in heart.

3

If the foundations bee destroyed: what can the righteous doe?

4

The LORD is in his holy Temple, the LORDs Throne is in heauen: his eyes beholde, his eye lids trie the children of men.

5

The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loueth violence, his soule hateth.

6

Upon the wicked hee shall raine snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.

7

For the righteous LORD loueth righteousnesse: his countenance doeth behold the vpright.

End of ps chapter 11.