1 Except the Lord the house do build,
The builders work in vain.
Except the Lord the city keep
The watchman wakes in vain.
2 It's vain for you to rise betimes,
Watch late, to feed upon
The bread of griefs; sure he gives sleep
To his beloved one.
3 The fruitful womb is God's reward,
Children his heritage.
4 As arrows in a strong mans hand,
Are sons of youthful age.
5 O blessed is the man who hath
His quiver fill'd with those:
They shall not in the gate be sham'd
In speaking with their foes.
|First Line:||Except the Lord the house doth build|
|Title:||A Song of Degrees for Solomon|