Psalm 127

CM
If help the Lord the house won't send,
The builders work in vain.
A town the Lord will not defend,
The guards stand watch in vain.

In vain the early morn you greet,
In vain you late hours keep,
You toil for food you love to eat;
His loved ones he grants sleep.

Your children are the Lord's gift, grand,
They're his reward, in truth.
Arrows held in a warrior's hand
Are children of one's youth.

The man whose quiver's full is blessed,
He will not be ashamed
When with his foes he fights for rest,
Where justice is obtained.