Psalms 12

1 For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, Yahweh; for the godly man ceases. For the faithful fail from among the children 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 Everyone lies to his neighbor. They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7 You will keep them, Yahweh. You will preserve them from this generation forever.

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

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

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