1For the choir director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.
Help, LORD, for the godly man ceases to be,
For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
2They speak falsehood to one another;
With flattering lips and with a double heart they speak.
3May the LORD cut off all flattering lips,
The tongue that speaks great things;
4Who have said, “With our tongue we will prevail;
Our lips are our own; who is lord over us?”
5“Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy,
Now I will arise,” says the LORD; “I will set him in the safety for which he longs.”
6The words of the LORD are pure words;
As silver tried in a furnace on the earth, refined seven times.
7You, O LORD, will keep them;
You will preserve him from this generation forever.
8The wicked strut about on every side
When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.