Psalms 12

1 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.

לַמְנַצֵּ֥חַ עַֽל־הַשְּׁמִינִ֗ית מִזְמ֥וֹר לְדָוִֽד׃ הוֹשִׁ֣יעָה יְ֭הוָה כִּי־גָמַ֣ר חָסִ֑יד כִּי־פַ֥סּוּ אֱ֝מוּנִ֗ים מִבְּנֵ֥י אָדָֽם׃

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

שָׁ֤וְא ׀ יְֽדַבְּרוּ֮ אִ֤ישׁ אֶת־רֵ֫עֵ֥הוּ שְׂפַ֥ת חֲלָק֑וֹת בְּלֵ֖ב וָלֵ֣ב יְדַבֵּֽרוּ׃

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

יַכְרֵ֣ת יְ֭הוָה כָּל־שִׂפְתֵ֣י חֲלָק֑וֹת לָ֝שׁ֗וֹן מְדַבֶּ֥רֶת גְּדֹלֽוֹת׃

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

אֲשֶׁ֤ר אָֽמְר֨וּ ׀ לִלְשֹׁנֵ֣נוּ נַ֭גְבִּיר שְׂפָתֵ֣ינוּ אִתָּ֑נוּ מִ֖י אָד֣וֹן לָֽנוּ׃

5 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!

מִשֹּׁ֥ד עֲנִיִּים֮ מֵאַנְקַ֪ת אֶבְי֫וֹנִ֥ים עַתָּ֣ה אָ֭קוּם יֹאמַ֣ר יְהוָ֑ה אָשִׁ֥ית בְּ֝יֵ֗שַׁע יָפִ֥יחַֽ לֽוֹ׃

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

אִֽמֲר֣וֹת יְהוָה֮ אֲמָר֪וֹת טְהֹ֫ר֥וֹת כֶּ֣סֶף צָ֭רוּף בַּעֲלִ֣יל לָאָ֑רֶץ מְ֝זֻקָּ֗ק שִׁבְעָתָֽיִם׃

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

אַתָּֽה־יְהוָ֥ה תִּשְׁמְרֵ֑ם תִּצְּרֶ֓נּוּ ׀ מִן־הַדּ֖וֹר ז֣וּ לְעוֹלָֽם׃

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

סָבִ֗יב רְשָׁעִ֥ים יִתְהַלָּכ֑וּן כְּרֻ֥ם זֻ֝לּ֗וּת לִבְנֵ֥י אָדָֽם׃