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 OVERSEER. ON THE EIGHTH. A PSALM OF DAVID. Save, YHWH, for the saintly has failed, For the steadfast have ceased From the sons of men:

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

They each speak vanity with his neighbor, Lip of flattery! With heart and heart they speak.

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

YHWH cuts off all lips of flattery, A tongue speaking great things,

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

Who said, “By our tongue we do mightily: Our lips [are] our own; 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 spoiling of the poor, Because of the groaning of the needy, Now I arise, says YHWH, I set in safety [him who] breathes for it.

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

Sayings of YHWH [are] pure sayings—Silver tried in a furnace of earth, refined sevenfold.

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

You, O YHWH, preserve them, You keep us from this generation for all time.

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

The wicked walk around continually, According as vileness is exalted by sons of men!