1 To the chief musician, by David. In the Lord have I put my trust: how can ye say to my soul, Flee to your mountain as a bird?
2 For lo, the wicked bend their bow, they arrange their arrow upon the string, to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart.
3 For if the foundations be torn down, what can the righteous do?
4 The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord hath his throne in the heavens, his eyes behold, his eyelids prove, the children of men.
5 The Lord proveth the righteous; but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6 He letteth rain upon the wicked burning coals, fire and brimstone; and a glowing wind is the portion of their cup.
7 For righteous is the Lord, he loveth righteousness: his countenance doth behold the upright.