| 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 Sabboth, 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 | 
| Not 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… |