Unless the Lord the house shall build,
The weary builders toil in vain;
Unless the Lord the city shield,
The guards a useless watch maintain.
In vain you rise ere morning break,
And late your nightly vigils keep,
And weary days of toil partake;
For God's beloved there is sleep.
Lo, children are the gift of God,
And sons the blessing he commands;
These whom in youthful days bestowed,
Are like the shafts in warrior's hands.
And happy they whose quivers bear
Full store of arrows such as these;
They in the gate are free from fear,
And boldly face their enemies.