Psalms 127

Psalm 127

A song of ascents. Of Solomon.

Unless the  Lord builds the house,
those who build it labour in vain.
Unless the  Lord guards the city,
the watchman wakes in vain.

In vain you rise early,
and finish so late,
and so eat sorrow’s bread;
for he cares for his loved ones
in their sleep.

Children are a gift of the  Lord,
the fruit of the womb, a reward.
Like arrows, by warriors wielded,
are the children of youth.

Happy the man who has filled
his quiver full of them.
He shall not be ashamed when he speaks
with enemies in the gate.
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