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.