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.

In finem, pro octava. Psalmus David. Salvum me fac, Domine, quoniam defecit sanctus, quoniam diminutæ sunt veritates a filiis hominum.

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

Vana locuti sunt unusquisque ad proximum suum; labia dolosa, in corde et corde locuti sunt.

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

Disperdat Dominus universa labia dolosa, et linguam magniloquam.

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

Qui dixerunt: Linguam nostram magnificabimus; labia nostra a nobis sunt. Quis noster dominus est?

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.

Propter miseriam inopum, et gemitum pauperum, nunc exsurgam, dicit Dominus. Ponam in salutari; fiducialiter agam in eo.

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

Eloquia Domini, eloquia casta; argentum igne examinatum, probatum terræ, purgatum septuplum.

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

Tu, Domine, servabis nos, et custodies nos a generatione hac in æternum.

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

In circuitu impii ambulant: secundum altitudinem tuam multiplicasti filios hominum.