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.

To the Chief Musician. On the Octave. A Melody of David. O save Yahweh, for the man of lovingkindness, is no more, for the faithful, have vanished, from among the sons of men.

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

Deception, speak they, every one with his neighbour, —with lips uttering smooth things—with a heart and a heart, do they speak.

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

May Yahweh cut off All the lips that utter smooth things, —the tongue that speaketh swelling words;

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

Them who say—With our tongue, will we prevail, our lips, are our own, who is our master?

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.”

Because of violence done to the poor, because of the crying of the needy, Now, will I arise! O may Yahweh say, —I will place [him] in safety—let him puff at him!

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

The words of Yahweh, are words, that are pure, silver refined in a crucible of earth, purified seven times!

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

Thou, O Yahweh, wilt keep them, —Thou wilt guard him, from this generation unto times age-abiding.

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

On every side, the lawless, march about, —when worthlessness is exalted by the sons of men.