To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David. In the Lord I put my trust; How can you say to my soul, "Flee as a bird to your mountain"?
For look! The wicked bend their bow, They make ready their arrow on the string, That they may shoot secretly at the upright in heart.
If the foundations are destroyed, What can the righteous do?
The Lord is in His holy temple, The Lord's throne is in heaven; His eyes behold, His eyelids test the sons of men.
The Lord tests the righteous, But the wicked and the one who loves violence His soul hates.
Upon the wicked He will rain coals; Fire and brimstone and a burning wind Shall be the portion of their cup.
For the Lord is righteous, He loves righteousness; His countenance beholds the upright.