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Psalms 11
DRA
Douay-Rheims (Challoner) · 1752
ASV
American Standard Version · 1901
1Unto the end: for the octave, a psalm for David.
1 In Jehovah do I take refuge: How say ye to my soul, Fleeasa bird to your mountain;
2Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.
2For, lo, the wicked bend the bow, They make ready their arrow upon the string, That they may shoot in darkness at the upright in heart;
3They have spoken vain things, every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.
3If the foundations be destroyed, What can the righteous do?
4May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.
4Jehovah is in his holy temple; Jehovah, his throne is in heaven; His eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
5Who have said: We will magnify our tongue: our lips are our own: who is Lord over us?
5Jehovah trieth the righteous; But the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I will set him in safety: I will deal confidently in his regard.
6Upon the wicked he will rain snares; Fire and brimstone and burning wind shall be the portion of their cup.
7The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth, refined seven times.
7For Jehovah is righteous; he loveth righteousness: The upright shall behold his face.