Saturday Psalm 12

Lord, is no one faithful anymore?
Is none loyal? Dependable? Faithful?

Or is it--as it seems--that all are liars
and flatterers
and deceitful, conniving people.

I would pray for you to silence all the above,
if I weren't often guilty, too.

My tongue gets me into trouble.
My lips are far from pure.
I tell myself I'm better than many,
but since when is that the right measurement?
When have I ever profited from defending myself
instead of relying on you to be my righteousness?

Your words, Lord, are flawless,
like silver poured from a crucible,
like gold refined seven times.

You alone can keep me safe
and make me right.
You alone can save me
from the deceit of my own heart.

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