To the chief Musician a psalm of David.
1 I In the Lord do trust; how then
to my soul do ye say,
as doth a little bird unto
your mountain fly away?
2 For lo, the wicked bend their bow,
their arrows they prepare
on string; to shoot in dark at them
in heart that upright are.
3 If that the firm foundations,
utterly ruin’d be:
as for the man that righteous is,
what then perform can he?
4 The Lord in’s holy temple is,
the Lords throne in heaven:
his eyes will view, and his eye lids
will prove the Sons of men.
5 The man that truly-righteous is
ev’n him the Lord will prove;
his soul they wicked hates, and him
that violence doth love.
6 Snares, fire, and brimstone he will rain,
ungodly men upon:
and burning tempest; of their cup
shall-be their portion.
7 For Jehovah that righteous is,
all righteousness doth love:
his countenance the upright one
beholding, doth approve.