There is nothing reliable in what they say;
Their inward part is destruction itself.
Their throat is an open grave;
They flatter with their tongue.

Forsaken among the dead,
Like the slain who lie in the grave,
Whom You remember no more,
And they are cut off from Your hand.

Will Your lovingkindness be declared in the grave,
Your faithfulness in Abaddon?

For they provoked Him with their high places
And aroused His jealousy with their graven images.

Let all those be ashamed who serve graven images,
Who boast themselves of idols;
Worship Him, all you gods.