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.

To the Overseer, on the octave. — A Psalm of David. Save, Jehovah, for the saintly hath failed, For the stedfast have ceased From the sons of men:

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

Vanity they speak each with his neighbour, Lip of flattery! With heart and heart they speak.

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

Jehovah doth cut off all lips of flattery, A tongue speaking great things,

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

Who said, 'By our tongue we do mightily: Our lips [are] our own; 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 spoiling of the poor, Because of the groaning of the needy, Now do I arise, saith Jehovah, I set in safety [him who] doth breathe for it.

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

Sayings of Jehovah [are] pure sayings; Silver tried in a furnace of earth refined sevenfold.

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

Thou, O Jehovah, dost preserve them, Thou keepest us from this generation to the age.

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

Around the wicked walk continually, According as vileness is exalted by sons of men!