Psalms 12

For the choirmaster: according to The Eighth. A psalm of David.

1Save, O Yahweh, for the godly are gone; for the faithful have vanished from among the sons of man.

2They speak falsehood, each man to his neighbor; with flattering lips, with duplicity in their hearts they speak.

3May Yahweh cut off all flattering lips, the tongue that speaks great things.

4who say, “With our tongue we will prevail; our lips are our own—who is lord over us?”

5Because of the devastation of the poor, because of the groaning of the needy, now I will arise, says Yahweh; I will set him in the safety for which he longs.

6The words of Yahweh are pure words, like silver refined in a furnace on the earth, purified seven times.

7You, O Yahweh, will keep them; you will guard us from this generation forever.

8The wicked walk all around, when vileness is exalted among the sons of man.