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
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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
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