EIN' FESTE BURG. Concluded.
I A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing;
Our helper He amid the flood
Of mortal ill 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.
2 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.
3 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.
4 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.
Dr. Martin Luther, 1529.
Dr. F. H. Hedge, tr., 1852.