1 (For the choir director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.) Help, Lord, for the godly man ceases to be, For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.

2 They speak falsehood to one another; With flattering lips and with a double heart they speak.

3 May the Lord cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaks great things;

4 Who have said, "With our tongue we will prevail; Our lips are our own; who is lord over us?"

5 "Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise," says the Lord; "I will set him in the safety for which he longs."

6 The words of the Lord are pure words; As silver tried in a furnace on the earth, refined seven times.

7 Thou, O Lord, wilt keep them; Thou wilt preserve him from this generation forever.

8 The wicked strut about on every side, When vileness is exalted among the sons of men.