Salme 12

1 (Til sangmesteren. Efter den ottende. En salme af David.) HERRE, hjælp, thi de fromme er borte, svundet er Troskab blandt Menneskens Børn;

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 de taler Løgn, den ene til den anden, med svigefulde Læber og tvedelt Hjerte.

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

3 Hver svigefuld Læbe udrydde HERREN, den Tunge, der taler store Ord,

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

4 dem, som siger: "Vor Tunge gør os stærke, vore Læber er med os, hvo er vor Herre?"

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

5 "For armes Nød og fattiges Suk vil jeg nu stå op", siger HERREN, "jeg frelser den, som man blæser ad."

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 HERRENs Ord er rene Ord, det pure, syvfold lutrede Sølv.

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

7 HERRE, du vogter os, værner os evigt mod denne Slægt.

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

8 De gudløse færdes frit overalt, når Skarn ophøjes blandt Menneskens Børn.

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