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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You will keep them, LORD. You will preserve them from this generation forever.

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

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