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We build with fruitless cost, unless
the Lord the pile sustain
Unless the Lord the city keep
the watchman wakes in vain.
In vain we rise before the day,
and late to rest repair,
Allow no respite to our toil,
and eat the bread of care.
Supplies of life, with ease to them,
he on his saints bestows;
He crowns their labor with success,
their nights with sound repose.
Children, those comforts of our life,
are presents from the Lord;
He gives a num'rous race of heirs,
as piety's reward.
As arrows in a giant's hand,
when marching forth to war,
E'en so the sons of sprightly youth
their parents' safeguard are.
Happy the man whose quiver's filled
with these prevailing arms;
He needs not fear to meet his foe
at law, or war's alarms.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1696
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 127;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1821 | # 127 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
