Psalms 12

1 [For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.] Help, LORD; for the faithful ceases. For the loyal have vanished from among the descendants of Adam.

Til Sangmesteren; til Skeminith; en Psalme af David.

2 Everyone lies to his neighbor. They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

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

3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that boasts,

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

4 who have said, "With our tongue we will prevail. Our lips are our own. Who is lord over us?"

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

5 "Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise," says the LORD; "I will place in safety the one who longs for it."

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

6 The words of the LORD are flawless words, as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

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 protect us. You will guard us from this generation forever.

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

8 The wicked walk on every side, when what is vile is exalted among the descendants of Adam.

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.