11:1 Unto the end; for the octave, a psalm for David.
11:2 Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint: truths are decayed from among the children of men.
11:3 They have spoken vain things every one to his neighbour: with deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.
11:4 May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.
11:5 Who have said: We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?
11:6 By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor, now will I arise, saith the Lord. I win set him in safety; I will deal confidently in his regard.
11:7 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried by the fire, purged from the earth refined seven times.
11:8 Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us.: and keep us from this generation for ever.
11:9 The wicked walk round about: according to thy highness, thou best multiplied the children of men.
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