1

I in the Lord do put my trust:

how is it then that ye

Say to my soul, Flee, as a bird,

unto your mountain high?

2

For, lo, the wicked bend their bow,

their shafts on string they fit,

That those who upright are in heart

they privily may hit.

3

If the foundations be destroy’d,

what hath the righteous done?

4

God in his holy temple is,

in heaven is his throne:

His eyes do see, his eyelids try

5

men’s sons. The just he proves:

But his soul hates the wicked man,

and him that vi’lence loves.

6

Snares, fire and brimstone, furious storms,

on sinners he shall rain:

This, as the portion of their cup,

doth unto them pertain.

7

Because the Lord most righteous doth

in righteousness delight;

And with a pleasant countenance

beholdeth the upright.