Psalms 11

1 To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David. In the LORD I put my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?

For the leader. Of David. In the Lord I take refuge. How can you tell me to flee like a bird to the mountains?

2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may secretly shoot at the upright in heart.

“See! The wicked are bending the bow, their arrow is set on the string, to shoot from the shadows at the upright in heart.

3 If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

In this tearing down of foundations what good can a good person 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.

The Lord in his holy temple, the Lord in heaven, enthroned. His eyes watch the world, they see everyone.

5 The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.

The Lord examines the righteous and wicked, and the lover of violence he hates.

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

On the wicked he rains coals of fire and brimstone, and their drink will be scorching wind.

7 For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance beholdeth the upright.

For the Lord is just, and justice he loves; so the upright will see his face.