To the choirmaster: according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David.
3May Yahweh cut off all flattering lips,
the tongue that makes great boasts,
4those who say, "With our tongue we will prevail,
our lips are with us; who is our master?"
5"Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan,
I will now arise," says Yahweh;
"I will place him in the safety for which he longs."
6The promises of Yahweh are promises that are pure,
silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times.
7You, O Yahweh, protect us,
you guard us ever from this generation.
8On every side the wicked prowl,
as vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
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