12:1 For the director. “Upon the eighth.” A psalm of David.
12:2 Help, O Lord, for there are no godly left; the faithful have vanished from the human race.
12:3 Neighbors utter lies to each other; they speak with flattering lips and deceitful hearts.
12:4 May the Lord destroy all flattering lips and every boastful tongue,
12:5 those who say, “We will prevail by our tongues; with our lips as our ally, who can lord it over us?”
12:6 “The poor have been oppressed, and those who are needy groan. Therefore, I will rise up now,” says the Lord; “I will grant them the safety for which they long.”
12:7 And the promises of the Lord are certain; they are like silver refined in a furnace and purified seven times.
12:8 You, O Lord, will watch over us and preserve us from this generation forever.
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