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.

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

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

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

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

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

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