1 a 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 a at the upright in heart.
3 If the a be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
4 The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord’s a is in b: his eyes behold, his eyelids try, the children of men.
5 The Lord a the righteous: but the wicked and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.
6 Upon the a he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.
7 For the righteous Lord loveth a; b countenance doth behold the upright.