Psalms 11

¹To the choirmaster. Of David. In the LORD I have taken refuge; how can you say to my soul, 'Flee, flee like a bird to your mountain'?

²For behold, the wicked string the bow; they have set their arrow on the string to shoot in the darkness at the upright in heart.

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

⁴The LORD is in his holy temple; the LORD's throne is in the heavens; his eyes behold, his eyelids test the sons of men.

⁵The LORD tests the righteous, but the wicked and the lover of violence his soul hates.

⁶He will rain upon the wicked snares, fire and brimstone; a scorching wind is the portion of their cup.

⁷For the LORD is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright will behold his face.