1 For the music director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David. Help, LORD, for the godly person has come to an end, For the faithful have disappeared from the sons of mankind.
2 They speak lies to one another; They speak with flattering lips and a double heart.
3 May the LORD cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaks great things;
4 Who 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 poor, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise,” says the LORD; “I will put him in the safety for which he longs.”
6 The words of the LORD are pure words; Like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, filtered seven times.
7 You, LORD, will keep them; You will protect him from this generation forever.
8 The wicked strut about on every side When vileness is exalted among the sons of mankind.