May the Lord build our house
And guard our city
If the Lord does not build the house
In vain do its builders labour
If the Lord does not watch over the city
In vain does the watchman keep vigil
In vain is your earlier rising
Your going later to rest
You who toil for the bread you eat
When he pours gifts on his beloved while they slumber
Truly sons are a gift from the Lord
A blessing, the fruit of the womb
Indeed the sons of youth
Are like arrows in the hand of a warrior
O the happiness of the man
Who has filled his quiver with these arrows!
He will have no cause for shame
When he disputes with his foes in the gateways
Glory to the Father
And to the Son
And to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning
Is now
And will be forever

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