1 A tower of strength our God doth stand,
A shield and sure defender:
True help from all our woes, His hand
Thro' life doth freely render.
Our foe hath fixed his purpose fell,
with might and craft he's arm'd full well,
On earth is not his fellow.
2 With force of arms we nothing can:
Full soon were we o'erridden:
But for us fights the goodly man
Whom God Himself hath bidden.
Ask ye His Name? 'Tis Christ our Lord,
The God of Hosts alone adored,
Our Champion, none dare brave Him.
3 Should hell's whole legion round us press,
All banded to devour us,
Yet this should work us good success,
Nor fear e'en then o'erpower us:
Though this world's prince look fierce and bold,
It maters not, his doom is told,
A single word can foil him.
4 Our foes must let the Word stand sure;
No thanks for this they're reaping;
God's Spirit in His way secure,
God's grace our souls is keeping;
Those foes may spoil all earthly bliss;
Let be! they win no gain from this,
God's kingdom still is left us. Amen.