Salme 12

1 (Til sangmesteren. Efter den ottende. En salme af David.) HERRE, hjælp, thi de fromme er borte, svundet er Troskab blandt Menneskens Børn;

“To the chief musician upon Sheminith, a psalm of David.” Help, O Lord; for the pious have ceased to be; for the truthful have failed from among the children of men.

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

Deceptively do they speak every one with his neighbor, with flattering lips, with a double heart do they speak.

3 Hver svigefuld Læbe udrydde HERREN, den Tunge, der taler store Ord,

May the Lord cut off all flattering lips, the tongue that speaketh boastful things:

4 dem, som siger: "Vor Tunge gør os stærke, vore Læber er med os, hvo er vor Herre?"

Who have said, With our tongue will we be mighty; our lips are with us; who is Lord over us!

5 "For armes Nød og fattiges Suk vil jeg nu stå op", siger HERREN, "jeg frelser den, som man blæser ad."

Because of the oppression of the poor, because of the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the Lord: I will grant safety to him for whom the other layeth a snare.

6 HERRENs Ord er rene Ord, det pure, syvfold lutrede Sølv.

The words of the Lord are pure words, as silver refined in the crucible of earth, purified seven times.

7 HERRE, du vogter os, værner os evigt mod denne Slægt.

Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve them; thou wilt guard them from this generation for ever.

8 De gudløse færdes frit overalt, når Skarn ophøjes blandt Menneskens Børn.

On every side do the wicked walk about, when the vile are exalted over the sons of man.