Psalms 12

For the music director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.

¹Help, Lord, for the godly person has come to an end, For the faithful have disappeared from the sons of mankind. ²They speak lies to one another; They speak with flattering lips and a double heart. ³May the Lord cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaks great things; ⁴Who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail; Our lips are our own; who is lord over us?” ⁵“Because of the devastation of the poor, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise,” says the Lord; “I will put him in the safety for which he longs.” ⁶¶The words of the Lord are pure words; Like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, filtered seven times. ⁷You, Lord, will keep them; You will protect him from this generation forever. ⁸The wicked strut about on every side When vileness is exalted among the sons of mankind.