2. 'Tis vain for you to rise betimes,or late from rest to keep,To feed on sorrows' bread;so gives he his beloved sleep.
3. Lo, children are God's heritage,the womb's fruit his reward.
4. The sons of youth as arrows are,for strong men's hands prepar'd.
5. O happy is the man that hathhis quiver fill'd with those;They unashamed in the gateshall speak unto their foes.