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.