Psalms 12

1 For the music director. To the Sheminith. A psalm of David. Help, Lord, for all the good people have gone! Those who trust in you have disappeared from among the people on earth.

Til Sangmesteren; til Skeminith; en Psalme af David.

2 Everyone lies to their neighbors. They flatter with nice talk, but they don't mean what they say.

Frels, Herre! thi de fromme ere borte; thi de trofaste ere blevne faa iblandt Menneskens Børn.

3 Stop their flattery, Lord, and silence their boasts—

De tale Løgn, hver med sin Næste; med smigrende Læber, snart af et, snart af et andet Hjerte tale de.

4 these people who say, “We will succeed through what we say; our mouths belong to us. We don't take orders from anyone!”

Herren udrydde alle smigrende Læber, den Tunge, som taler store Ord,

5 “Because of the violence the helpless have suffered, and because of the groans of the poor, I will rise up to defend them,” says the Lord. “I will give them the protection they have been longing for.”

dem, som sige: Ved vor Tunge skulle vi faa Overhaand, vore Læber ere med os; hvo er vor Herre?

6 What the Lord says is trustworthy, as pure as silver refined seven times in a furnace.

For de elendiges Ødelæggelses Skyld, for de fattiges Jamren vil jeg nu staa op, siger Herren; jeg vil sætte en Frelse for den, som han fnyser ad.

7 You, Lord will keep the oppressed safe; you will protect us from these kinds of people forever;

Herrens Ord ere rene Ord, ligesom Sølv, der er smeltet i en Ovn af Jord, lutret syv Gange.

8 even though the wicked are all around us, and evil is being promoted everywhere.

Du, Herre! du vil bevare dem; du vil vogte os imod denne Slægt evindelig. De ugudelige færdes trindt omkring, naar Skarn ophøjes iblandt Menneskens Børn.