1To the chief musician, on eight. A Psalm of David. Help, O Jehovah, for the saint ceases to be; for the faithful fail from among the sons of men.
2They speak vanity, each man with his neighbor; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
3Jehovah shall cut off all with flattering lips and the tongue that speaks great things;
4Who say, We shall be strong by our tongue; our lips are our own; who is lord over us?
5For the pain of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, I will now rise up, says Jehovah; I will set in safety; he pants for it.
6The words of Jehovah are pure words, like silver refined in an earthen furnace, purified seven times.
7You shall keep them, O Jehovah; You shall preserve them from this generation forever.
8The wicked walk around on every side, when vileness is exalted by the sons of men.