Unless the Lord builds the house

by janet

Below here is my poem that I dedicate to my pastor called James. I wish him good health always as we celebrate pastor appreciation month.


Unless the Lord builds the house,
the builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the guards stand watch in vain.
In vain you rise early
and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
he grants sleep toa those he loves.
Children are a heritage from the Lord,
offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man
 whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
when they contend with their opponents in court.

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