Psalms Chapter 12

                                                For the Choir Director. A Psalm of David

Set to The Eight-String Lyre

¹ Help, LORD; there aren’t any decent people left;

      the faithful are disappearing.

² Neighbors lie to one another

      and speak with flattering lips and deceitful hearts.

³ May the LORD cut off their flattering lips

         and bragging tongues ⁴ that say

                   “We can talk our way out of anything;

            they’re our lips; who’s going to stop us?”

⁵ The LORD says, “Since the oppressed are suffering violence

            and the needy groan,

      I’ll come to give them the protection they long for.”

Ps 12:1-5

⁶ Your promises are pure, LORD,

      like silver refined in a furnace seven times.

⁷ Keep us; protect us from this generation

         ⁸that struts around, displaying its contempt.                    

Ps 12:6-8