Psalms 127

1 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.

“A song of the degrees for Solomon.” Unless the Lord do build the house, in vain labor they that build on it: unless the Lord guard the city, in vain is the watchman wakeful.

2 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!

It is in vain for you to be early in rising, to be late in sitting up, eating the bread of painful toils; [for] so doth he give unto his beloved during sleep.

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

Lo, children are an inheritance from the Lord: a reward is the fruit of the body.

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

Like arrows in the hand of a mighty man, so are the children of youth.

5 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.

Happy is the man that hath his quiver filled with them: they shall not be put to shame, when they do speak with the enemies in the gate.