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Psalm 12:3 - The Message

3-4 Slice their lips off their faces! Pull The braggart tongues from their mouths! I’m tired of hearing, “We can talk anyone into anything! Our lips manage the world.”

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Más versiones

King James Version (Oxford) 1769

3 The LORD shall cut off all flattering lips, And the tongue that speaketh proud things:

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Amplified Bible - Classic Edition

3 May the Lord cut off all flattering lips and the tongues that speak proud boasting,

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American Standard Version (1901)

3 Jehovah will cut off all flattering lips, The tongue that speaketh great things;

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Common English Bible

3 Let the LORD cut off all slick-talking lips and every tongue that brags and brags,

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Catholic Public Domain Version

3 How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

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Psalm 12:3
26 Referencias Cruzadas  

Words kill, words give life; they’re either poison or fruit—you choose.


The Beast had a loud mouth, boastful and blasphemous. It could do anything it wanted for forty-two months. It yelled blasphemies against God, blasphemed his Name, blasphemed his Church, especially those already dwelling with God in Heaven. It was permitted to make war on God’s holy people and conquer them. It held absolute sway over all tribes and peoples, tongues and races. Everyone on earth whose name was not written from the world’s foundation in the slaughtered Lamb’s Book of Life will worship the Beast.


“As I was staring at the horns and trying to figure out what they meant, another horn sprouted up, a little horn. Three of the original horns were pulled out to make room for it. There were human eyes in this little horn, and a big mouth speaking arrogantly.


Their hearts are hard as nails, their mouths blast hot air. They are after me, nipping my heels, determined to bring me down, Lions ready to rip me apart, young lions poised to pounce. Up, God: beard them! break them! By your sword, free me from their clutches; Barehanded, God, break these mortals, these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today. I’d like to see their bellies swollen with famine food, The weeds they’ve sown harvested and baked into famine bread, With second helpings for their children and crusts for their babies to chew on.


God says, “You have spoken hard, rude words to me. “You ask, ‘When did we ever do that?’


The enemy spoke, “I’ll pursue, I’ll hunt them down, I’ll divide up the plunder, I’ll glut myself on them; I’ll pull out my sword, my fist will send them reeling.”


Pile your troubles on God’s shoulders— he’ll carry your load, he’ll help you out. He’ll never let good people topple into ruin. But you, God, will throw the others into a muddy bog, Cut the lifespan of assassins and traitors in half. And I trust in you.


I know that you, God, are on the side of victims, that you care for the rights of the poor. And I know that the righteous personally thank you, that good people are secure in your presence.


Your enemy shakes hands and greets you like an old friend, all the while plotting against you. When he speaks warmly to you, don’t believe him for a minute; he’s just waiting for the chance to rip you off. No matter how shrewdly he conceals his malice, eventually his evil will be exposed in public.


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