Psalms

Chapter 11

  1. 2

    Lord, come to my rescue; piety is dead; in a base world, true hearts have grown rare.

  2. 3

    None but exchanges empty forms of speech with his neighbour; everywhere false hearts and treacherous lips.

  3. 4

    Those treacherous lips, that tongue with high-sounding phrases; Lord, rid the earth of them!

  4. 5

    With our tongues, they say, we can do great things; our lips are good friends to us; we own no master.

  5. 6

    Now, says the Lord, I will bestir myself, on behalf of the helpless who are so ill used, of the poor who cry out so bitterly; I will win them the redress they long for.

  6. 7

    The promises of the Lord are true metal, like silver that is tested in the crucible, the stains of earth gone, seven times refined.

  7. 8

    Yes, Lord, thou wilt watch over us, and keep us ever safe from these evil days.

  8. 9

    See how the wicked come and go all around us, how they rise to greatness, this base breed of men!