Psalms 11

1 To him that excelleth. A Psalme of Dauid. In the Lord put I my trust: howe say yee then to my soule, Flee to your mountaine as a birde?

Til Sangmesteren; af David. Jeg haaber paa Herren; hvorledes kunne I da sige til min Sjæl: Fly til eders Bjerg som en Fugl?

2 For loe, the wicked bende their bowe, and make readie their arrowes vpon the string, that they may secretly shoote at them, which are vpright in heart.

Thi se, de ugudelige spænde Buen, de berede deres Pil paa Strengen, at skyde i Mørke paa de oprigtige af Hjertet.

3 For the foundations are cast downe: what hath the righteous done?

Thi Grundvoldene nedbrydes; hvad kunde en retfærdig udrette?

4 The Lord is in his holy palace: the Lordes throne is in the heauen: his eyes wil consider: his eye lids will try the children of men.

Herren er i sit hellige Tempel, Herrens Trone er i Himmelen; hans Øjne se, hans Øjenlaage prøve Menneskens Børn.

5 The Lord will try the righteous: but the wicked and him that loueth iniquitie, doeth his soule hate.

Herren prøver en retfærdig; men den ugudelige og den, som elsker Vold, dem hader hans Sjæl.

6 Vpon the wicked he shall raine snares, fire, and brimstone, and stormie tempest: this is the porcion of their cup.

Han skal lade regne Snarer over de ugudelige; Ild og Svovl og et vældigt Stormvejr skal blive deres Bægers Del.

7 For the righteous Lord loueth righteousnes: his countenance doeth beholde the iust.

Thi Herren er retfærdig, elsker Retfærdighed; hans Ansigt skuer en oprigtig.