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Psalms
CH. 12
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1 To the Chief Musician. On an eight-stringed harp. A Psalm of David. Help, LORD, for the godly man ceases! For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
2 They speak idly everyone with his neighbor; With flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, And the tongue that speaks proud things,
4 Who have said, "With our tongue we will prevail; Our lips are our own; Who is lord over us?"
5 "For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, Now I will arise," says the LORD; "I will set him in the safety for which he yearns."
6 The words of the LORD are pure words, Like silver tried in a furnace of earth, Purified seven times.
7 You shall keep them, O LORD, You shall preserve them from this generation forever.
8 The wicked prowl on every side, When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
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101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150