God is a stronghold and a tow­er,
A help that ne­ver faileth,
A covering shield, a sword of pow­er,
When Satan’s host assaileth.
In vain our crafty foe
Still strives to work us woe,
Still lurks and lies in wait
With more than earthly hate;
We will not faint, nor tremble.

Frail sinners are we: naught remains
For hope or consolation,
Save in His strength whom God ordains
Our captain of sal­va­tion.
Yes, Je­sus Christ alone
The Lord of hosts we own,
God ere the world began,
The Word-made-flesh for man,
Still conquering, and to conquer.

Though fiercely strive the hosts of ill
Within us, and around us,
With fiendish strength, and fiendish skill,
Yet ne’er may they confound us.
Man’s night of dark despair,
When storm clouds fill the air,
In God’s triumphal hour,
The noonday of His power,
One word, and He prevaileth.

Our Fa­ther’s truth abideth sure;
Christ, our Re­deem­er, liv­eth;
For us He pleads His offering pure,
To us His Spi­rit giveth.
Though dear ones pass away,
Though strength and life decay,
Yet loss shall be our gain,
For God doth still remain
Our All-in-all for­ev­er.