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A SONG OF THE ASCENTS. BY SOLOMON. If YHWH does not build the house, || Its builders have labored at it in vain, || If YHWH does not watch a city, || A watchman has awoken in vain. Vain for you who are rising early, || Who delay sitting, eating the bread of griefs, || So He gives sleep to His beloved one. Behold, sons [are] an inheritance of YHWH, || The fruit of the womb [is] a reward. As arrows in the hand of a mighty one, || So [are] the sons of the young men. O the blessedness of the man || Who has filled his quiver with them, || They are not ashamed, || For they speak with enemies in the gate!