Salme 12

1 Til Sangmesteren; til Skeminith; en Psalme af David.

Help, LORD; for the godly man ceases; for the faithful fail from among the children of men.

2 Frels, Herre! thi de fromme ere borte; thi de trofaste ere blevne faa iblandt Menneskens Børn.

They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and with a double heart do they speak.

3 De tale Løgn, hver med sin Næste; med smigrende Læber, snart af et, snart af et andet Hjerte tale de.

The LORD shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaks proud things:

4 Herren udrydde alle smigrende Læber, den Tunge, som taler store Ord,

Who have said, With our tongue will we prevail; our lips are our own: who is lord over us?

5 dem, som sige: Ved vor Tunge skulle vi faa Overhaand, vore Læber ere med os; hvo er vor Herre?

For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, says the LORD; I will set him in safety from him that puffs at him.

6 For de elendiges Ødelæggelses Skyld, for de fattiges Jamren vil jeg nu staa op, siger Herren; jeg vil sætte en Frelse for den, som han fnyser ad.

The words of the LORD are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.

7 Herrens Ord ere rene Ord, ligesom Sølv, der er smeltet i en Ovn af Jord, lutret syv Gange.

You shall keep them, O LORD, you shall preserve them from this generation for ever.

8 Du, Herre! du vil bevare dem; du vil vogte os imod denne Slægt evindelig. De ugudelige færdes trindt omkring, naar Skarn ophøjes iblandt Menneskens Børn.

The wicked walk on every side, when the vilest men are exalted.