Psalms 12

1 For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, Yahweh; for the godly man ceases. For the faithful fail from among the children of men.

Unto the end. For the octave. A Psalm of David. Save me, O Lord, because holiness has passed away, because truths have been diminished, before the sons of men.

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

They have been speaking emptiness, each one to his neighbor; they have been speaking with deceitful lips and a duplicitous heart.

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

May the Lord scatter all deceitful lips, along with the tongue that speaks malice.

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

They have said: “We will magnify our tongue; our lips belong to us. What is Lord to us?”

5 “Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise,” says Yahweh; “I will set him in safety from those who malign him.”

Because of the misery of the destitute and the groaning of the poor, now I will arise, says the Lord. I will place him in safety. I will act faithfully toward him.

6 Yahweh’s words are flawless words, as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

The eloquence of the Lord is pure eloquence, silver tested by fire, purged from the earth, refined seven times.

7 You will keep them, Yahweh. You will preserve them from this generation forever.

You, O Lord, will preserve us, and you will guard us from this generation into eternity.

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

The impious wander aimlessly. According to your loftiness, you have multiplied the sons of men.