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. 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 The words of Yahweh 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. | |