A Safe Stronghold Our God Is Still

A safe stronghold our God Is still,
a trusty shield and weapon;
He’ll keep 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;
nor 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!

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