To the chief musician, on eight. A Psalm of David. Help, O Jehovah, for the godly one ceases to be; for ones being faithful fail from among the sons of men.
Roam around in Jerusalem’s streets and see now, and know, and seek in her open places if you can find a man, if there is one who does justice who seeks truth; and I will pardon her.
The godly one has perished from the earth, and the upright one is not among mankind. All of them lie in wait for blood; each man hunts his brother with a net.
Therefore, when you do merciful deeds, do not trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be glorified by men. Truly I say to you, They have their reward.
The Pharisee was standing, praying these things to himself: God, I thank You that I am not as the rest of men, rapacious ones, unrighteous ones, adulterers, or even as this tax collector.
Boasting, I have become foolish. You compelled me. For I ought to be commended by you, for I lacked nothing of the exceedingly great apostles, even though I am nothing.