1  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.

 2  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 Sabaoth His Name,

    From age to age the same,

    And He must win the battle.

 3  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.

 4  That word above all earthly powers,

    No 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.