1 Fear not, O little flock, the foe
who madly seeks your overthrow;
dread not his rage and pow'r:
what though your courage sometimes faints,
his seeming triumph o'er God's saints
lasts but a little hour.
2 Be of good cheer, your cause belongs
to him who can avenge your wrongs;
leave it to him, our Lord:
though hidden yet from all our eyes,
he sees the Gideon who shall rise
to save us and his Word.
3 As true as God's own Word is true,
nor earth nor hell with all their crew
against us shall prevail.
A jest and byword are they grown;
God is with us, we are his own;
our vict'ry cannot fail.
4 Amen, Lord Jesus, grant our pray'r;
great Captain, now your arm make bare,
fight for us once again;
so shall your saints and martyrs raise
a mighty chorus to your praise,
world without end. Amen.
|First Line:||Fear not, O little flock, the foe|
|Title:||Fear Not, O Little Flock|
|Author (attr.):||Johann M. Altenburg|
|Translator:||Catherine Winkworth (1855; mod.)|
|Topic:||Anniversaries; Reformation Day; The Christian Life: Conflict With Sin(3 more...)|
|Composer:||Edward Patrick Crawford, 1846-1912|