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 hath

his quiver fill’d with those;

They unashamed in the gate

shall speak unto their foes.