| A mighty fortress is our God,
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| A bulwark never failing.
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| Our helper He amid the flood
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| Of mortal ills prevailing.
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| For still our ancient foe
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| Doth seek to work us woe.
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| His craft and power are great,
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| And, armed with cruel hate,
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| On earth is not his equal.
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| Did we in our own strength confide,
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| Our striving would be losing,
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| Were not the right man on our side,
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| The man of God’s own choosing.
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| Dost ask who that may be?
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| Christ Jesus, it is He.
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| Lord Sabboth, his name,
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| From age to age the same,
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| And He must win the battle.
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| And though this world, with devils filled,
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| Should threaten to undo us,
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| We will not fear, for God hath willed
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| His truth to triumph through us.
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| The Prince of Darkness grim,
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| We tremble not for him.
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| His rage we can endure,
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| For lo, his doom is sure.
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| One little word shall fell him.
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| That word above all earthly powers
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| Not thanks to them, abideth.
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| The Spirit and the gifts are ours
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| Through him who with us sideth.
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| Let goods and kindred go,
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| This mortal life also.
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| The body they may kill,
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| God’s truth abideth still.
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| His kingdom is forever… |