Sunday's Hymn: A Mighty Fortress Is Our God

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 Sa­ba­oth, 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,
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.

—Mar­tin Lu­ther