To the Chief Musician upon the Eighth. A Psalm of David
1 Save me, O Jehovah! for failed hath the merciful man, For wasted away are the faithful from among the children of men.
2 Deceit doth every one speak with his neighbor; With lips of flatteries, with a double heart do they speak.
3 Let Jehovah cut off all lips of flatteries, The tongue that great things doth speak:
4 Those who have said, |By our tongues we will be strengthened; |Our lips are our own; who is lord over us?|
5 |Because of the spoiling of the needy, |Because of the groaning of the poor, |Now will I arise,| say will Jehovah, |I will set in safety him for whom the wicked man layeth snares.|
6 The words of Jehovah are pure words; Silver melted in an excellent crucible of earth, purified seven times.
7 Thou, O Jehovah! wilt keep them; Thou wilt preserve him from this generation for ever.
8 On every side the ungodly walk; When they are exalted, reproach is to the children of men.