Verse 1
"A psalm of David. Lord, who may dwell in Your tent? Who may abide on Your holy mountain?"
"Your tent" is the house of God; "Your holy mountain" is Zion.
David opens with the great double question, like someone standing at the door.
Not about visiting — about dwelling: who may live in God's presence?
Verse 2
"He who walks blamelessly, and does what is right, and speaks truth in his heart."
"Walks blamelessly" means living whole and upright; "speaks truth in his heart" means being true even on the inside.
The first answer: integrity, justice, and truth.
Truth "in his heart": not lying to others — and not lying to himself.
Verse 3
"He who does not slander with his tongue, does no evil to his fellow, and brings no disgrace upon his neighbor."
"Slander" means spreading harmful words about someone; "brings no disgrace" means he does not shame or humiliate.
Three things the righteous man does not do: he speaks no harm, does no harm, shames no one.
The tongue can wound more deeply than the hands — that is why it comes first.
Verse 4
"In his eyes a vile person is despised, but he honors those who fear the Lord; he swears to his own hurt and does not change."
"A vile person" is one who chooses evil; "swears to his own hurt" means he keeps his promise even when it costs him.
The righteous man is not impressed by the wicked, and honors those who fear God.
And his word is gold — even when keeping it hurts, he does not change.
Verse 5
"He does not lend his money at interest, and takes no bribe against the innocent. He who does these things shall never be moved."
"Interest" here is profit taken from someone in hardship; "a bribe" is payment that bends justice.
In money matters too he is honest: he does not profit from distress and does not sell justice.
And then comes the promise that seals the psalm: whoever lives this way shall never be moved.
This psalm teaches that the house of God has a door, and the key to it is character. No miracles and no greatness are required — only integrity, which anyone can live every day. And the reward is the psalm's own promise: a steady life that nothing can shake. So the question at the door becomes a song — a gentle invitation to come in and dwell.