| Chapter 11 |
1 | For the Chief Musician. [A Psalm] of David. In Jehovah do I take refuge: How say ye to my soul, Flee [as] a bird to your mountain;
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2 | For, lo, the wicked bend the bow, They make ready their arrow upon the string, That they may shoot in darkness 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 | Jehovah is in his holy temple; Jehovah, his throne is in heaven; His eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
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5 | Jehovah trieth the righteous; But the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
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6 | Upon the wicked he will rain snares; Fire and brimstone and burning wind shall be the portion of their cup.
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7 | For Jehovah is righteous; he loveth righteousness: The upright shall behold his face.
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