1 In the Lord put I 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 doth behold the upright.