A might-y for-tress is our God,
A bul-wark ne-ver fail-ing;
Our help-er He a-mid the flood
Of mor-tal ills pre-vail-ing.
For still our an-cient foe
Doth seek to work us woe—
His craft and power are great,
And armed with cru-el hate,
On earth is not His e-qual.
Did we in our own strength con-fide,
Our striv-ing would be los-ing,
Were not the right man on our side,
The man of God's own choos-ing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Je-sus, it is He—
Lord Sab-a-oth His name,
From age to age the same,
And He must win the bat-tle.
And though this world with de-vils filled,
Should threat-en to un-do us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to tri-umph through us.
The prince of dark-ness grim,
We trem-ble not for him—
His rage we can en-dure,
For lo, his doom is sure:
One lit-tle word shall fell him.
That word a-bove all earth-ly powers,
No thanks to them a-bid-eth;
The Spir-it and the gifts are ours
Through Him who with us sid-eth.
Let goods and kin-dred go,
This mor-tal life al-so—
The bod-y they may kill;
God's truth a-bid-eth still:
His king-dom is for-ev-er.
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