480 (2) | Version 2 | 8 7. 8 7. 6 6. 6 6 7 | |
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’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. |
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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. |
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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. |
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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. |
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Martin Luther, 1483-1546, tr Thomas Carlyle, 1795-1881 |