For the choir director; upon an eight-stringed lyre. A Psalm of David.

     1Help, LORD, for the godly man ceases to be,
            For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.

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

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

      4Who 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.”

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

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

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