A mighty Fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing;
Our helper, he amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe
Does seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great,
And, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.
2
If we in our own strength confide,
Our striving would be losing;
Were not the right man on our side,
The man of God’s own choosing:
Do ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth his name,
From age to age the same,
And he must win the battle.
3
And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim,
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo! his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.
4
That word above all earthly powers,
No thanks to them, is living;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours
Through Him who with us siding:
Let goods and kindred go,
This mortal life also;
The body they may kill:
God’s truth is living still,
His Kingdom is forever.