Only Version ❧ CM · 8·6·8·6
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 Lord’s throne in heaven: his eyes will view, and his eyelids will prove the sons of men.
5 The man that truly righteous is ev’n him the Lord will prove; his soul the 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.