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!