Psalm 12

Psalm 12

To the Chief Musician. On An Eight-Stringed Harp. A Psalm of David.

¹Help, ²Lord, for the godly man ^bceases!

For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.

^2cThey speak idly everyone with his neighbor;

With flattering lips and ³a double heart they speak.

³May the Lord ⁴cut off all flattering lips,

And the tongue that speaks ⁵proud things,

⁴Who have said,

“With our tongue we will prevail;

Our lips are our own;

Who is lord over us?”

⁵“For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy,

Now I will arise,” says the Lord;

“I will set him in the safety for which he yearns.”

⁶The words of the Lord are ^dpure words,

Like silver tried in a furnace of earth,

Purified seven times.

⁷You shall keep them, O Lord,

You shall preserve them from this generation forever.

⁸The wicked prowl on every side,

When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.