Psalms 12

1 Unto the end; for the octave, a psalm for David. Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.

[For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.] Help, LORD; for the faithful ceases. For the loyal have vanished from among the descendants of Adam.

2 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.

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

3 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.

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

4 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?

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

5 By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I win set him in safety; I will deal confidently in his regard.

"Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy, I will now arise," says the LORD; "I will place in safety the one who longs for it."

6 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined seven times.

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

7 Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us: and keep us from this generation for ever.

You, LORD, will protect us. You will guard us from this generation forever.

8 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.

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