Chapter 11

To the chief Musician, A Mizmor of David.

1

IN Yahuah 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 yashariy in heart.

3

If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

4

Yahuah is in his holy Temple, Yahuah's throne is in heaven: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.

5

Yahuah tries the righteous: but the wicked and him that loves violence his soul hates.

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 Yahuah loves righteousness; his countenance beholds the upright.



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