A Safe Stronghold Our God is Still

As safe a stronghold our God is still, A trusty shield and weapon; He’ll help us clear from all the ill That hath us now o’ertaken. The ancient prince of hell Hath risen with purpose fell; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour; On earth is not His fellow.

With force of arms we nothing can, Full soon were we down-ridden; But for us fights the proper Man, Whom God Himself hath bidden. Ask ye: Who is this same? Christ Jesus is His name, The Lord Sabaoth’s Son; He, and no other one, Shall conquer in the battle.

And were this world all devils o’er, And watching to devour us, We lay it not to heart so sore; Not they can overpower us. And let the prince of ill Look grim as e’er he will, He harms us not a whit; For why? his doom is writ; A word shall quickly slay him.

God’s word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger, But, spite of hell, shall have its course;’Tis written by His finger. And though they take our life, Goods, honour, children, wife, Yet is their profit small:These things shall vanish all; The city of God remaineth.