12:1 For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. 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.
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.
