To 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:
Vanity they speak each with his neighbour, Lip of flattery!
With heart and heart they speak.
Jehovah doth cut off all lips of flattery, A tongue speaking
Who said, 'By our tongue we do mightily: Our lips are
our own; who is lord over us?'
Because 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.
Sayings of Jehovah are pure sayings; Silver tried in
a furnace of earth refined sevenfold.
Thou, O Jehovah, dost preserve them, Thou keepest us from
this generation to the age.
Around the wicked walk continually, According as vileness is
exalted by sons of men!