A Safe Stronghold Our God Is Still

A safe 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

hon­or

child­ren

wife

Yet is their pro­fit small;

These things shall van­ish all:

The Ci­ty of God re­main­eth!