PSALM 12
1To the lead player, on the eight-stringed lyre, a David psalm.
2Rescue, O LORD! For the faithful is gone,
for vanished is trust from the sons of man.
3Falsehood every man speaks to his fellow,
smooth talk, with two hearts they speak.
4The LORD will cut off all smooth-talking lips,
the tongue that speaks of big things,
5those who said, “Let us make our tongue great,
our own lips are with us—who is master to us?”
6“From the plunder of the poor, from the wretched men’s groans,
now will I rise,” says the LORD.
7“I will set up for rescue a witness for him.”
The LORD’s sayings—pure sayings,
silver tried in a kiln in the earth
refined sevenfold.
8You, LORD, will guard him,
will keep him from this age for all time.
9All around go the wicked,
they have dug deep pits for the sons of men.