Salme 12

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

For the end, A Psalm of David, upon the eighth. Save me, O Lord; for the godly man has failed; for truth is diminished from among the children of men.

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

Every one has spoken vanity to his neighbor: their lips are deceitful, they have spoken with a double heart.

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

Let the Lord destroy all the deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaks great words:

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

who have said, We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own: who is Lord of us?

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

Because of the misery of the poor, and because of the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, says the Lord, I will set [them] in safety; I will speak [to them] thereof openly.

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 oracles of the Lord are pure oracles; as silver tried in the fire, proved [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, O Lord, shall keep us, and shall preserve us, from this generation, and 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 ungodly walk around: according to your greatness you has greatly exalted the sons of men.