1[To the chiefe Musician. A Psalme of Dauid.] In the Lord put I my trust: how say yee to my soule, Flee as a bird to your mountaine? 2For loe, the wicked bende their bow, they make ready their arrow vpon the string: that they may priuily shoote at the vpright in heart. 3If the foundations bee destroyed: what can the righteous doe?4The Lord is in his holy Temple, the Lords Throne is in heauen: his eyes beholde, his eye lids trie the children of men. 5The Lord trieth the righteous: but the wicked and him that loueth violence, his soule hateth.