1 Except the Lord do build the house,
the builders lose their pain:
Except the Lord the city keep,
the watchmen watch in vain.
2 ’Tis vain for you to rise betimes,
or late from rest to keep,
To feed on sorrows’ bread; so gives
he his beloved sleep.
3 Lo, children are God’s heritage,
the womb’s fruit his reward.
4 The sons of youth as arrows are,
for strong men’s hands prepar’d.
5 O happy is the man that hath
his quiver fill’d with those;
They unashamed in the gate
shall speak unto their foes.
Common Metre (8,6,8,6)
105 St Andrew