Help, for the Godly Are No More

1To the Overseer, on the octave.—A Psalm of David. Save, Jehovah, for the saintly hath failed, For the stedfast have ceased From the sons of men:

2Vanity they speak each with his neighbour, Lip of flattery! With heart and heart they speak.

3Jehovah doth cut off all lips of flattery, A tongue speaking great things,

4Who said, ‘By our tongue we do mightily: Our lips [are] our own; who [is] lord over us?’

5Because of the spoiling of the poor, Because of the groaning of the needy, Now do I arise, saith Jehovah, I set in safety [him who] doth breathe for it.

6Sayings of Jehovah [are] pure sayings; Silver tried in a furnace of earth refined sevenfold.

7Thou, O Jehovah, dost preserve them, Thou keepest us from this generation to the age.

8Around the wicked walk continually, According as vileness is exalted by sons of men!