Psalms 12

1 Unto the end; for the octave, a psalm for David. Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.

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.

2 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.

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

3 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.

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

4 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?

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

5 By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I win set him in safety; I will deal confidently in his regard.

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.

6 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined seven times.

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

7 Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.

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

8 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.

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