Except the Lord build the house  *

their labour is but lost that build it.

Except the Lord keep the city *

the watchman waketh but in vain.

It is but lost labour that ye haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of carefulness *

for so he giveth his beloved sleep.

Lo, children and the fruit of the womb *

are an heritage and gift that cometh of the Lord.

Like as the arrows in the hand of the giant *

even so are the young children.

Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them *

they shall not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.

Blessed are all they that fear the Lord  *

and walk in his ways.

For thou shalt eat the labours of thine hands *

O well is thee, and happy shalt thou be.

Thy wife shall be as the fruitful vine *

upon the walls of thine house.

Thy children like the olive-branches *

round about thy table.

Lo, thus shall the man be blessed *

that feareth the Lord.

The Lord from out of Sion shall so bless thee *

that thou shalt see Jerusalem in prosperity all thy life long.

Yea, that thou shalt see thy children’s children *

and peace upon Israel.