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.