12:1 To the choirmaster: according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David. Help, Lord; for there is no longer any that is godly; for the faithful have vanished from among the sons of men.
12:2 Every one utters lies to his neighbor; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
12:3 May the Lord cut off all flattering lips, the tongue that makes great boasts,
12:4 those who say, “With our tongue we will prevail, our lips are with us; who is our master?”
12:5 “Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now arise,” says the Lord; “I will place him in the safety for which he longs.”
12:6 The promises of the Lord are promises that are pure, silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times.
12:7 Do thou, O Lord, protect us, guard us ever from this generation.
12:8 On every side the wicked prowl, as vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
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