¹To the chief musician, on eight. A Psalm of David. Help, O Jehovah, for the saint ceases to be; for the faithful fail from among the sons of men. ²They speak vanity, each man with his neighbor; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak. ³Jehovah shall cut off all with flattering lips and the tongue that speaks great things; ⁴Who say, We shall be strong by our tongue; our lips are our own; who is lord over us? ⁵For the pain of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, I will now rise up, says Jehovah; I will set in safety; he pants for it. ⁶The words of Jehovah are pure words, like silver refined in an earthen furnace, purified seven times. ⁷You shall keep them, O Jehovah; You shall preserve them from this generation forever. ⁸The wicked walk around on every side, when vileness is exalted by the sons of men.