We build with fruitless toil and cost

Verse 1

We build with fruitless toil and cost, Unless the Lord the pile sustain; Unless the Lord the city keeps, The watchman waketh but in vain.

Verse 2

In vain we rise before the dawn; In vain we late to rest repair; Allow no respite to our toil, And daily eat the bread of care.

Verse 3

Supplies of life, with ease to them, The Lord to all his saints bestows; He crowns their labours with success, Their nights with peace and soft repose.

Verse 4

Children, those comforts of our life, Are presents from the bounteous Lord; He gives a num'rous race of heirs, Of piety the sweet reward.

Verse 5

As arrows in a giant's hand, When marching forth, equipp'd for war, Ev'n so the sons of sprightly youth Their parents hopeful safeguard are.

Verse 6

Happy the man, whose quivers are Replete with those prevailing arms! He need not fear to meet his foe, In strifes of law, or war's alarms.