Salme 12

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

HELP, Lord; 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 vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and with a double heart do they speak.

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

The Lord shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud 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?«

For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the Lord; I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him.

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

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

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

Thou shalt keep them, O Lord, thou shalt 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 the vilest men are exalted.