Psalms 11

1[To the chief Musician, of David.] In the Yahuah put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee a bird to your mountain? 2For, lo, the wicked bend bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily shoot at the upright in heart. 3If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? 4The Yahuah in his holy temple, the Yahuah'S throne in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men. 5The Yahuah trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth. 6Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: the portion of their cup. 7For the righteous Yahuah loveth righteousness; his countenance does behold the upright.