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 Of The Bread Of Toil Partake;
God Gives To His Beloved Sleep.

Lo, Children Are A Great Reward,
A Gift From God In Very Truth;
With Arrows Is His Quiver Stored
Who Joys In Children Of His Youth.

And Blest The Man Whose Age Is Cheered
By Stalwart Sons And Daughters Fair;
No Enemies By Him Are Feared,
No Lack Of Love, No Want Of Care.