Psalms 11

1Unto the end: for the octave, a psalm for David.

1 In Jehovah have I put my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee [as] a bird to your mountain?

2Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.

2 For behold, the wicked bend the bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may in darkness shoot 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.

3 If the foundations be destroyed, what shall the righteous do?

4May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.

4 Jehovah [is] in the temple of his holiness; Jehovah, — his throne is in the heavens: 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?

5 Jehovah trieth the righteous one; 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.

6 Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone; and scorching 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.

7 For righteous is Jehovah; he loveth righteousness, his countenance doth behold the upright.

8Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.

8(not in this translation)

9The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou hast multiplied the children of men.

9(not in this translation)