Psalms 12

1 For the chief music-maker on the Sheminith. A Psalm. Of David. Send help, Lord, for mercy has come to an end; there is no more faith among the children of men.

Til Sangmesteren; til Skeminith; en Psalme af David.

2 Everyone says false words to his neighbour: their tongues are smooth in their talk, and their hearts are full of deceit.

Frels, Herre! thi de fromme ere borte; thi de trofaste ere blevne faa iblandt Menneskens Børn.

3 The smooth lips and the tongue of pride will be cut off by the Lord.

De tale Løgn, hver med sin Næste; med smigrende Læber, snart af et, snart af et andet Hjerte tale de.

4 They have said, With our tongues will we overcome; our lips are ours: who is lord over us?

Herren udrydde alle smigrende Læber, den Tunge, som taler store Ord,

5 Because of the crushing of the poor and the weeping of those in need, now will I come to his help, says the Lord; I will give him the salvation which he is desiring.

dem, som sige: Ved vor Tunge skulle vi faa Overhaand, vore Læber ere med os; hvo er vor Herre?

6 The words of the Lord are true words: like silver tested by fire and burned clean seven times.

For de elendiges Ødelæggelses Skyld, for de fattiges Jamren vil jeg nu staa op, siger Herren; jeg vil sætte en Frelse for den, som han fnyser ad.

7 You will keep them, O Lord, you will keep them safe from this generation for ever.

Herrens Ord ere rene Ord, ligesom Sølv, der er smeltet i en Ovn af Jord, lutret syv Gange.

8 The sinners are walking on every side, and evil is honoured among the children of men.

Du, Herre! du vil bevare dem; du vil vogte os imod denne Slægt evindelig. De ugudelige færdes trindt omkring, naar Skarn ophøjes iblandt Menneskens Børn.