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