Sons are indeed a heritage from the Lord,
children, a reward.

A Solomonic song of ascents.Unless the Lord builds a house,
its builders labor over it in vain;
unless the Lord watches over a city,
the watchman stays alert in vain.

In vain you get up early and stay up late,
working hard to have enough food—
yes, He gives sleep to the one He loves.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior
are the sons born in one’s youth.

Happy is the man who has filled his quiver with them.
Such men will never be put to shame
when they speak with their enemies at the city gate.