Psalms 12

Help, Lord; for there is no longer any one that is godly; for the faithful have vanished from among the sons of men.

Every one utters lies to his neighbor; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.

May the Lord cut off all flattering lips, the tongue that makes great boasts,

those who say, “With our tongue we will prevail, our lips are with us; who is our master?”

“Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now arise,” says the Lord; “I will place him in the safety for which he longs.”

The promises of the Lord are promises that are pure, silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times.

Do, O Lord, protect us, guard us for ever from this generation.

On every side the wicked prowl, as vileness is exalted among the sons of men.