To the chief musician upon stringed instruments, a Psalm of David
LORD, help, for the godly man ceases to be;
And from among men’s sons the faithful none see.
And each to his neighbor, their speech is all vain:
With flattering lips, double heart they explain.
And so may the Lord cut off flattering lips,
And also the tongue boasting arrogant quips.
As those who have said, “With our tongue we’ll prevail;
Our lips are our own: so who us will assail?”
For groaning of needy, oppression of weak;
The Lord says, “I’ll rise and protect them they seek.”
As silver is tried; so the Lord’s words are pure;
Though earth’s furnace try, seven times it’ll endure.
O Lord, you will keep; generations won’t die.
Though wicked walk freely when vile are held high.