In the Lord I find my flight, Why say to me, “Flee like a bird to the height”? The wicked bend bows in the shadows of night, Their arrows take aim at the pure-hearted right. When the foundations are shattered and torn, What can the righteous do, but mourn? But the Lord in His temple remains on high, His throne is fixed above the sky. His eyes behold, His gaze tests men, He tries the hearts of children again. The righteous He knows, the wicked He spurns, On lovers of violence His anger burns. He rains down coals and burning wind, A cup for those who cling to sin. But the Lord is just, He loves what's true, The upright will see His face anew.
