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'er taken. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.