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.

To the Chief Musician. On the Octave. A Melody of David. O save Yahweh, for the man of lovingkindness, is no more, for the faithful, have vanished, from among the sons of men.

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

Deception, speak they, every one with his neighbour, —with lips uttering smooth things—with a heart and a heart, do they speak.

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

May Yahweh cut off All the lips that utter smooth things, —the tongue that speaketh swelling words;

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

Them who say—With our tongue, will we prevail, our lips, are our own, who is our master?

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.

Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say, —I will place [him] in safety—let him puff at him!

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

The words of Yahweh, are words, that are pure, silver refined in a crucible of earth, purified seven times!

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

Thou, O Yahweh, wilt keep them, —Thou wilt guard him, from this generation unto times age-abiding.

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

On every side, the lawless, march about, —when worthlessness is exalted by the sons of men.