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 pow'r 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

The Lord of hosts, 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.