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Psalm 11
To the
chief Musician, A Psalm of David.
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 an horrible tempest: this shall be
the portion of their cup.
7 For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness; his
countenance doth behold the upright.
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Psalm 11
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