To the Chief Musician. On An Eight-Stringed Harp. A Psalm of David.
1 Help, Lord, for the godly man ceases!
For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
2 They speak idly everyone with his neighbor;
With flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
3 May the Lord cut off all flattering lips,
And the tongue that speaks proud things,
4 Who have said,
"With our tongue we will prevail;
Our lips are our own;
Who is lord over us?"
5"For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy,
Now I will arise," says the Lord;
"I will set him in the safety for which he yearns."
6 The words of the Lord are pure words,
Like silver tried in a furnace of earth,
Purified seven times.
7 You shall keep them, O Lord,
You shall preserve them from this generation forever.
8 The wicked prowl on every side,
When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
Father, please help us!
It seems that those who are faithful to You are continually dwindling in numbers.
I hope my perception is flawed due to ignorance.
I hope there are more who are faithful than I realize,
And that I am mistaken, as was Elijah.
This proud generation needs You more than ever.
Wickedness abounds due to idleness and lying tongues.
Please humble all who would speak arrogantly.
Make them learn of the true Lord!
Rise up against evildoers, O God!
Your word is forever pure.
Preserve those who submit to Your ways.
Please protect them from the wickedness that abounds everywhere.