David, destitute of human comfort, craves help of God.

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.

David, destitute of human comfort, craves help of God.

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.