²⁰ All your work will be for nothing, for your land will yield no crops, and your trees will bear no fruit.

Psalm 127

A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem. A psalm of Solomon.

¹⁷ If you do, the Lord’s anger will burn against you. He will shut up the sky and hold back the rain, and the ground will fail to produce its harvests. Then you will quickly die in that good land the Lord is giving you.

⁴ I will send you the seasonal rains. The land will then yield its crops, and the trees of the field will produce their fruit.

¹¹ I fear for you. Perhaps all my hard work with you was for nothing.

⁶ I planted the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it, but it was God who made it grow.

¹⁶ When you hoped for a twenty-bushel crop, you harvested only ten. When you expected to draw fifty gallons from the winepress, you found only twenty.

⁹ You hoped for rich harvests, but they were poor. And when you brought your harvest home, I blew it away. Why? Because my house lies in ruins, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, while all of you are busy building your own fine houses. ¹⁰ It’s because of you that the heavens withhold the dew and the earth produces no crops. ¹¹ I have called for a drought on your fields and hills—a drought to wither the grain and grapes and olive trees and all your other crops, a drought to starve you and your livestock and to ruin everything you have worked so hard to get.”