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 doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and
power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not
his equal.
Did 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:
Dost 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.
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.
That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them,
abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who
with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life
also;
The body they may kill: God¡¦s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.
