Psalms 12

1 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.

Ki he Takimuʻa ʻi he Semini, ko e Saame ʻa Tevita. ‌ʻE Sihova, ke ke fakamoʻui; he kuo ngata ʻae tangata anga fakaʻotua; he ʻoku fakaʻaʻau ʻo tokosiʻi ʻae angatonu ʻi he ngaahi fānau ʻae tangata.

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

‌ʻOku nau taki taha lea loi ki hono kaungāʻapi: ʻoku nau lea ʻi he loungutu lapu mo e kākā.

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

‌ʻE fakaʻauha ʻe Sihova ʻae ngaahi loungutu lapu kotoa pē, pea mo e ʻelelo ʻoku lea ʻaki ʻae ngaahi meʻa fakafielahi:

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

‌ʻAkinautolu naʻe pehē, “Te tau ikuna ʻaki hotau ʻelelo; ʻoku ʻotautolu pe hotau loungutu: ko hai ʻae ʻeiki kiate kitautolu?

5 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!

‌ʻOku pehē ʻe Sihova, “Ko e meʻa ʻi he fakamālohiʻi ʻoe masiva, mo e ngaahi mafulu ʻoe vaivai, te u tuʻu hake; te u fokotuʻu moʻui ia meiate ia ʻaia ʻoku manuki kiate ia.”

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

Ko e ngaahi folofola ʻa Sihova ko e folofola maʻa ia: ʻo hangē ko e siliva kuo ʻahiʻahi ʻi he kulo ʻumea, kuo tuʻo fitu hono fakamaʻa.

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

‌ʻE Sihova, te ke tauhi ʻakinautolu, te ke fakamoʻui ʻakinautolu mei he toʻutangata ni ʻo taʻengata.

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

‌ʻOku ʻeveʻeva ʻae angakovi ʻi he potu kotoa pē, ʻoka hakeakiʻi ʻae kau tangata ʻoku mātuʻaki kovi.