Salme 12

1 Til Sangmesteren. Efter den ottende. En Salme af David.

For the Chief Musician; set to the Sheminith. A Psalm of David. Help, Jehovah; for the godly man ceaseth; For the faithful fail from among the children of men.

2 HERRE, hjælp, thi de fromme er borte, svundet er Troskab blandt Menneskens Børn;

They speak falsehood every one with his neighbor: With flattering lip, and with a double heart, do they speak.

3 de taler Løgn, den ene til den anden, med svigefulde Læber og tvedelt Hjerte.

Jehovah will cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaketh great things;

4 Hver svigefuld Læbe udrydde HERREN, den Tunge, der 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 siger: »Vor Tunge gør os stærke, vore Læber er med os, hvo er vor Herre?«

Because of the oppression of the poor, because of the sighing of the needy, Now will I arise, saith Jehovah; I will set him in the safety he panteth for.

6 »For armes Nød og fattiges Suk vil jeg nu staa op«, siger HERREN, »jeg frelser den, som man blæser ad.«

The words of Jehovah are pure words; As silver tried in a furnace on the earth, Purified seven times.

7 HERRENS Ord er rene Ord, det pure, syvfold lutrede Sølv.

Thou wilt keep them, O Jehovah, Thou wilt preserve them from this generation for ever.

8 HERRE, du vogter os, værner os evigt mod denne Slægt. De gudløse færdes frit overalt, naar Skarn ophøjes blandt Menneskens Børn.

The wicked walk on every side, When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.