Psalms 12

1 For the chief musician; set to the Sheminith. A psalm of David. Help, Yahweh, for the godly have disappeared; the faithful have vanished.

Til Sangmesteren; til Skeminith; en Psalme af David.

2 Everyone says empty words to his neighbor; everyone speaks with flattering lips and a double heart.

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

3 Yahweh, cut off all flattering lips, every tongue declaring great things.

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

4 These are those who have said, “With our tongues will we prevail. When our lips speak, who can be master over us?”

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

5 “Because of violence against the poor, because of the groans of the needy, I will arise,” says Yahweh. “I will provide the safety for which they long.”

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

6 The words of Yahweh are pure words, like silver purified in a furnace on the earth, refined 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 are Yahweh! You keep them. You preserve the godly people from this wicked generation and 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 evil is exalted among the children of mankind.

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.