Psalms 12

1 For the music director. To the Sheminith. A psalm of David. Help, Lord, for all the good people have gone! Those who trust in you have disappeared from among the people on earth.

Til sangmesteren, efter Sjeminit; en salme av David. Frels, Herre! for de fromme er borte, de trofaste er forsvunnet blandt menneskenes barn.

2 Everyone lies to their neighbors. They flatter with nice talk, but they don't mean what they say.

Løgn taler de, hver med sin næste, med falske leber; med tvesinnet hjerte taler de.

3 Stop their flattery, Lord, and silence their boasts—

Herren utrydde alle falske leber, den tunge som taler store ord,

4 these people who say, “We will succeed through what we say; our mouths belong to us. We don't take orders from anyone!”

dem som sier: Ved vår tunge skal vi få overhånd, våre leber er med oss, hvem er herre over oss?

5 “Because of the violence the helpless have suffered, and because of the groans of the poor, I will rise up to defend them,” says the Lord. “I will give them the protection they have been longing for.”

For de elendiges ødeleggelses skyld, for de fattiges sukks skyld vil jeg nu reise mig, sier Herren; jeg vil gi dem frelse som stunder efter den.

6 What the Lord says is trustworthy, as pure as silver refined seven times in a furnace.

Herrens ord er rene ord, likesom sølv som er renset i en smeltedigel i jorden, syv ganger renset.

7 You, Lord will keep the oppressed safe; you will protect us from these kinds of people forever;

Du, Herre, vil bevare dem, du vil vokte dem for denne slekt evindelig.

8 even though the wicked are all around us, and evil is being promoted everywhere.

Rundt omkring svermer de ugudelige, når skarn er ophøiet blandt menneskenes barn.