1 Except the Lord do build the house,the builders lose their pain:Except the Lord the city keep,the watchmen watch in vain.
2 'Tis vain for you to rise betimes,or late from rest to keep,To feed on sorrows' bread;so gives he his beloved sleep.
3 Lo, children are God's heritage,the womb's fruit his reward.
4 The sons of youth as arrows are,for strong men's hands prepar'd.
5 O happy is the man that hathhis quiver fill'd with those;They unashamed in the gateshall speak unto their foes.