Our God he is a castle strong,
A good mail-coat and weapon;
He sets us free from every wrong
That wickedness would heap on.
The ancient wicked foe
He means earnest now;
Force and cunning sly
His horrid policy,--
On earth there's no one like him!
Our strength is vain; do what we can
Our hopes are soon dejected;
But He fights for us, the right man,
By God himself elected.
Ask'st thou who is this?
Jesus Christ it is;
He is the Lord of Hosts
In whom his people boasts;
And he must win the battle.
And did the world with devils swarm
All gaping to devour us,
We fear not from them the least harm;
Success lies sure before us.
This world's prince accurst,
Let him rage his worst,
Only roars about;
His doom it is gone out,
A word can overthrow him.
The Word they'll have to let it bide,
Nor there claim any merit;
He is with us, and on our side
With his own gifts and spirit!
Let them take our life,
Goods, name, child, and wife--
Everything may go:
To them it is no gain;
The kingdom ours remaineth.