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.