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 belovèd 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 prepared. 5 O happy is the man that hath his quiver filled with those; They unashamèd in the gate shall speak unto their foes.