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.