Psalms 12

1 To the Overseer, on the octave. — A Psalm of David. Save, Jehovah, for the saintly hath failed, For the stedfast have ceased From the sons of men:

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.

2 Vanity they speak each with his neighbour, Lip of flattery! With heart and heart they speak.

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

3 Jehovah doth cut off all lips of flattery, A tongue speaking great things,

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

4 Who said, 'By our tongue we do mightily: Our lips [are] our own; who [is] lord over us?'

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

5 Because of the spoiling of the poor, Because of the groaning of the needy, Now do I arise, saith Jehovah, I set in safety [him who] doth breathe for it.

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.

6 Sayings of Jehovah [are] pure sayings; Silver tried in a furnace of earth refined sevenfold.

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

7 Thou, O Jehovah, dost preserve them, Thou keepest us from this generation to the age.

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

8 Around the wicked walk continually, According as vileness is exalted by sons of men!

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