12:1 For the choir director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, LORD, for the godly man ceases to be, For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
12:2 They speak falsehood to one another; With flattering lips and with a double heart they speak.
12:3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaks great things;
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 devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise," says the LORD; "I will set him in the safety for which he longs."
12:6 The words of the LORD are pure words; As silver tried in a furnace on the earth, refined seven times.
12:7 You, O LORD, will keep them; You will preserve him from this generation forever.
12:8 The wicked strut about on every side When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
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