Psalms 12

1 To the victorie on the eiyte, the song of Dauid. Lord, make thou me saaf, for the hooli failide; for treuthis ben maad litle fro the sones of men.

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.

2 Thei spaken veyn thingis, ech man to hys neiybore; thei han gileful lippis, thei spaken in herte and herte.

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

3 The Lord destrie alle gileful lippis; and the greet spekynge tunge.

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

4 Whiche seiden, We schulen magnyfie oure tunge, our lippis ben of vs; who is oure lord?

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

5 For the wretchednesse of nedy men, and for the weilyng of pore men; now Y schal ryse vp, seith the Lord. I schal sette inhelt he; Y schal do tristili in hym.

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!

6 The spechis of the Lord ben chast spechis; siluer examynyd bi fier, preued fro erthe, purgid seuen fold.

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

7 Thou, Lord, schalt kepe vs; and thou `schalt kepe vs fro this generacioun with outen ende.

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

8 Wickid men goen in cumpas; bi thin hiynesse thou hast multiplied the sones of men.

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