| Chapter 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?
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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.
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3 | If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
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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.
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5 | The LORD trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
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6 | Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
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7 | For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance beholdeth the upright.
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