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 chief musician; set to the Sheminith. A psalm of David. Help, Yahweh, for the godly have disappeared; the faithful have vanished.

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

Everyone says empty words to his neighbor; everyone speaks with flattering lips and a double heart.

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

Yahweh, cut off all flattering lips, every tongue declaring great things.

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

These are those who have said, “With our tongues will we prevail. When our lips speak, who can be master 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 violence against the poor, because of the groans of the needy, I will arise,” says Yahweh. “I will provide the safety for which they long.”

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

The words of Yahweh are pure words, like silver purified in a furnace on the earth, refined seven times.

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

You are Yahweh! You keep them. You preserve the godly people from this wicked generation and forever.

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

The wicked walk on every side when evil is exalted among the children of mankind.