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1Help, Lord, because the godly man
doth daily fade away;
And from among the sons of men
the faithful do decay.
2Unto his neighbour ev'ry one
doth utter vanity:
They with a double heart do speak,
and lips of flattery.
3God shall cut off all flatt'ring lips,
tongues that speak proudly thus,
4We'll with our tongue prevail, our lips
are ours: who's lord o'er us?
5For poor oppress'd,
and for the sighs of needy, rise will
I, Saith God, and him in safety set
from such as him defy.
6The words of God are words most pure;
they be like silver try'd
In earthen furnace, seven times
that hath been purify'd.
7Lord, thou shalt them preserve and keep
for ever from this race.
8On each side walk the wicked, when
vile men are high in place.