[ Featuring Scottish Festival Singers ]
Except the Lord shall build the house
The builders lose their pain
Except the Lord the city keep
The watchmen watch in vain
Lo, children are the Lord's good gift
Rich payment are men's sons
The sons of youth as arrows are
In hands of mighty ones
Who has his quiver filled with these
O happy shall he be
When foes they greet within the gate
They shall from shame be free
