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;

“For the leader of the music; to the octave. A psalm of David.” Help, LORD; for the godly man ceaseth; The faithful are failing among men.

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

They speak falsehood one to another; 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 destroy all flattering lips, And the tongue which speaketh proud things!

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

Who say, “With our tongues will we prevail; Our lips are our reliance; 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."

For the oppression of the poor and the sighing of the wretched, Now will I stand up, saith the LORD; I will set in safety him whom they puff at.

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

The words of the LORD are pure; Like silver purified in a furnace on the earth, Seven times refined.

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

Thou, O LORD! will watch over them; Thou wilt preserve them from this generation for ever.

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

The wicked walk on every side, When the vilest of men are exalted.