This psalm speaks to me personally this moening, I feel!
Help, Lord, for the godly man ceases!
For the faithful disappear from among the sons of men.
They speak idly everyone with his neighbor;
With flattering lips and a double heart they speak.
May the Lord cut off all flattering lips,
And the tongue that speaks proud things,
Who have said,
“With our tongue we will prevail;
Our lips are our own;
Who is lord over us?”
“For the oppression of the poor,
for the sighing of the needy,
Now I will arise,” says the Lord;
“I will set him in the safety for which he yearns.”
The words of the Lord are pure words,
Like silver tried in a furnace of earth,
Purified seven times.
You shall keep them, O Lord,
You shall preserve them from this generation forever.
The wicked prowl on every side,
When the vileness is exalted among the sons of men.
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