For the director of music. According to the sheminith. A psalm of David.
12 1 Help, our Father, for the faithful are gone; the loyal have vanished from among the children of humanity. 2 Everyone lies to his neighbor; with flattering lips and a divided heart they speak. 3 May our Father cut off all flattering lips and every tongue that boasts great things, 4 those who say, "With our tongue we will prevail; our lips are our own — who is lord over us?"
5 "Because the poor are plundered, because the needy groan, I will now arise," says our Father. "I will bring to safety the one who longs for it."
6 The words of our Father are pure words, silver refined in a furnace of earth, purified seven times. 7 You, our Father, will keep them safe; you will guard us from this generation forever. 8 The wicked prowl on every side when vileness is exalted among the children of humanity.
