Psalms 127

1 A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. A psalm of Solomon. If the Lord doesn't build the house, the work of the builders is futile. If the Lord doesn't guard the city, the work of the guards is pointless.

The song of greces of Salomon. `No but the Lord bilde the hous; thei that bilden it han trauelid in veyn. No but the Lord kepith the citee; he wakith in veyn that kepith it.

2 It's useless to get up early in the morning and go to work, and stay late into the evening, worrying about earning enough to eat, when the Lord gives rest to those he loves.

It is veyn to you to rise bifore the liyt; rise ye after that ye han sete, that eten the breed of sorewe. Whanne he schal yyue sleep to his loued; lo!

3 Children certainly are a gift from the Lord, for a family is a blessing.

the eritage of the Lord `is sones, the mede is the fruyt of wombe.

4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of a young man.

As arowis ben in the hond of the miyti; so the sones of hem that ben schakun out.

5 Happy is the father who fills his quiver with them! Such fathers will not be embarrassed when they confront their enemies at the city gate.

Blessid is the man, that hath fillid his desier of tho; he schal not be schent, whanne he schal speke to hise enemyes in the yate.