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.

In finem, pro octava. Psalmus David. [Salvum me fac, Domine, quoniam defecit sanctus, quoniam diminutæ sunt veritates a filiis hominum.

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

Vana locuti sunt unusquisque ad proximum suum; labia dolosa, in corde et corde locuti sunt.

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

Disperdat Dominus universa labia dolosa, et linguam magniloquam.

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

Qui dixerunt: Linguam nostram magnificabimus; labia nostra a nobis sunt. Quis noster dominus est?

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!

Propter miseriam inopum, et gemitum pauperum, nunc exsurgam, dicit Dominus. Ponam in salutari; fiducialiter agam in eo.

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

Eloquia Domini, eloquia casta; argentum igne examinatum, probatum terræ, purgatum septuplum.

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

Tu, Domine, servabis nos, et custodies nos a generatione hac in æternum.

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

In circuitu impii ambulant: secundum altitudinem tuam multiplicasti filios hominum.]