(Psalm 11)

I plead my case before the righteous judge:

Why should I hide when I’ve done nothing wrong?

Why do the evil boast aloud?

What is this violent, jeering crowd?

Why does the minstrel sing this song:

Fly away to the mountain

Fly away, little bird, and hide.

Someday you will dwell in safety

But now it is time to fly.

The lover of violence now bends his bow

He boasts against me and he hates your word

Laying a snare for the upright

He would put out a shining light

A whispered warning I have heard:

Fly away to the mountain

Fly away, little bird, and hide.

Someday you will dwell in safety

But now it is time to fly.

Why should I then be glorious as the day

If this good life is death, as they say?

What bold work should I be doing

If my death they are construing

Or must I run—and fly away?

Fly away to the mountain

Fly away, little bird, and hide.

Someday you will dwell in safety

But now it is time to fly.