Scripture Verse

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1

Introduction

portrait
Martin Luther (1483–1546)
Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1529

Words & Mu­sic: Mar­tin Lu­ther, 1529 (Ein’ feste Burg ist un­ser Gott) (🔊 pdf nwc). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Fred­er­ic H. Hedge, 1853. This song has been called the great­est hymn of the great­est man of the great­est pe­ri­od of Ger­man his­to­ry, and the Bat­tle Hymn of the Re­for­ma­tion. It was sung at the fun­er­al of Am­eri­can pre­si­dent Dwight Ei­sen­how­er at the Na­tion­al Ca­thed­ral in Wash­ing­ton, DC, March 1969.

portrait
Frederic H. Hedge (1805–1890)

Anecdote

In 1720 a re­mark­able re­viv­al be­gan in a town in Mo­ra­via. Je­su­its op­posed it, and the meet­ings were pro­hib­it­ed. Those who still as­sem­bled were seized and im­pris­oned in sta­bles and cel­lars.

At Da­vid Nitsch­mann’s house, where a hun­dred and fif­ty per­sons gath­ered, the po­lice broke in and seized the books. Not dis­mayed, the con­gre­ga­tion struck up the stan­zas of Lu­ther’s hymn,

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.

Twenty heads of fa­mi­lies were for this sent to jail, in­clud­ing Nitsch­mann, who was treat­ed with spe­cial se­ve­ri­ty.

He fin­al­ly es­caped, fled to the Mo­ra­vi­ans at Herrn­hut, be­came a bish­op, and af­ter­wards joined the Wes­leys in 1735 in their ex­pe­di­tion to Sa­van­nah, Geor­gia.

Sankey, p. 106

Lyrics

A migh­ty for­tress is our God,
A bul­wark ne­ver fail­ing;
Our help­er He, amid the flood
Of mor­tal ills 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.

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.

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.

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.

Alternate translation:

A migh­ty fort­ress is our God,
A trus­ty shield and wea­pon;
He helps us free from ev­ery need
That hath us now ov­er­tak­en.
The old ev­il foe
Now means dead­ly woe;
Deep guile and great might
Are his dread arms in fight;
On Earth is not his eq­ual.

With might of ours can naught be done,
Soon were our loss ef­fect­ed;
But for us fights the Val­iant One,
Whom God Him­self elect­ed.
Ask ye, who is this?
Jesus Christ it is.
Of Sab­bath Lord,
And there’s none oth­er God;
He holds the field for­ev­er.

Though dev­ils all the world should fill,
All ea­ger to de­vour us.
We trem­ble not, we fear no ill,
They shall not ov­er­pow­er us.
This world’s prince may still
Scowl fierce as he will,
He can harm us none,
He’s judged; the deed is done;
One lit­tle word can fell him.

The Word they still shall let re­main
Nor any thanks have for it;
He’s by our side up­on the plain
With His good gifts and Spir­it.
And take they our life, goods,
Fame, child and wife,
Let these all be gone,
They yet have no­thing won;
The king­dom ours re­main­eth.