|[To the choirmaster: according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David.]||Help Me O Lord!. Psalm 12(v11)|
|Help, LORD; for there is no longer any that is godly; |
for the faithful have vanished from among the sons of men.
|Every one utters lies to his neighbor; |
with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
|May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, |
the tongue that makes great boasts,
|those who say, "With our tongue we will prevail, |
our lips are with us; who is our master?"
|"Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan,|
I will now arise," says the LORD;
"I will place him in the safety for which he longs."
|The promises of the LORD are promises that are pure, |
silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times.
|Do thou, O LORD, protect us, |
guard us ever from this generation.
|On every side the wicked prowl, |
as vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
|<< | Psalms: 12 | >>|