1 aIn the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?
2 For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, they make ready their arrow upon the string, that they may privily ashoot at the upright in heart.
3 If the afoundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
5 The Lord atrieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6 Upon the awicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.