For the choirmaster, of David.
In Yahweh I take shelter.
How can you say to me, ‘Bird, fly back to your mountain:
‘See how the wicked are bending their bows,
and fitting their arrows to the string,
ready to shoot the upright from the shadows.
When foundations fall to ruin, what can the virtuous do?’
Yahweh is in His holy Temple,
Yahweh whose throne is in heaven;
His eyes look down at the world,
His searching gaze scans all mankind.
The virtuous and the wicked are under Yahweh's scrutiny,
and His soul hates anyone who loves brutality.
He rains coals of fire and brimstone on the wicked,
He serves them a scorching wind to swallow down.
Yahweh is righteous, He loves virtue,
upright men will contemplate His face.
Next… Psalm 12