For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.

12:1 Help, Yahweh; for the godly man ceases.

For the faithful fail from among the children of men.

12:2 Everyone lies to his neighbor.

They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.

12:3 May Yahweh cut off all flattering lips,

and the tongue that boasts,

12:4 who have said, "With our tongue we will prevail.

Our lips are our own.

Who is lord over us?"

12:5 "Because of the oppression of the weak and because of the groaning of the needy,

I will now arise," says Yahweh;

"I will set him in safety from those who malign him."

12:6 The words of Yahweh are flawless words,

as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.

12:7 You will keep them, Yahweh.

You will preserve them from this generation forever.

12:8 The wicked walk on every side,

when what is vile is exalted among the sons of men.