Psalms 12

1 Unto the end. For the octave. A Psalm of David. Save me, O Lord, because holiness has passed away, because truths have been diminished, before the sons of men.

Til sangmesteren, efter Sjeminit; en salme av David. Frels, Herre! for de fromme er borte, de trofaste er forsvunnet blandt menneskenes barn.

2 They have been speaking emptiness, each one to his neighbor; they have been speaking with deceitful lips and a duplicitous heart.

Løgn taler de, hver med sin næste, med falske leber; med tvesinnet hjerte taler de.

3 May the Lord scatter all deceitful lips, along with the tongue that speaks malice.

Herren utrydde alle falske leber, den tunge som taler store ord,

4 They have said: “We will magnify our tongue; our lips belong to us. What is Lord to us?”

dem som sier: Ved vår tunge skal vi få overhånd, våre leber er med oss, hvem er herre over oss?

5 Because of the misery of the destitute and the groaning of the poor, now I will arise, says the Lord. I will place him in safety. I will act faithfully toward him.

For de elendiges ødeleggelses skyld, for de fattiges sukks skyld vil jeg nu reise mig, sier Herren; jeg vil gi dem frelse som stunder efter den.

6 The eloquence of the Lord is pure eloquence, silver tested by fire, purged from the earth, refined seven times.

Herrens ord er rene ord, likesom sølv som er renset i en smeltedigel i jorden, syv ganger renset.

7 You, O Lord, will preserve us, and you will guard us from this generation into eternity.

Du, Herre, vil bevare dem, du vil vokte dem for denne slekt evindelig.

8 The impious wander aimlessly. According to your loftiness, you have multiplied the sons of men.

Rundt omkring svermer de ugudelige, når skarn er ophøiet blandt menneskenes barn.