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For the Chief Musician; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.
1 Help, Yahweh; for the godly man ceases.
For the faithful fail from among the children of men.
2 Everyone lies to his neighbor.
They speak with flattering lips, and with a double heart.
3 May Yahweh cut off all flattering lips,
and the tongue that boasts,
4 who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail.
Our lips are our own.
Who is lord over us?”
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.”
6 Yahweh’s words are flawless words,
as silver refined in a clay furnace, purified seven times.
7 You will keep them, Yahweh.
You will preserve them from this generation forever.
8 The wicked walk on every side,
when what is vile is exalted among the sons of men.