| Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | | III. “A Fortress sure is God our King” | | By Godfrey Thring (1823–1894) |
| | (Martin Luther)
A FORTRESS sure is God our King, | |
| A Shield that ne’er shall fail us, | |
| His sword alone shall succour bring, | |
| When evil doth assail us; | |
| With craft and cruel hate | 5 |
| Doth Satan lie in wait, | |
| And, armed with deadly power, | |
| Seeks whom he may devour; | |
| On earth where is his equal? | |
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| O who shall then our champion be, | 10 |
| Lest we be lost for ever? | |
| One sent by God,—from sin ’tis He | |
| The sinner shall deliver; | |
| And dost thou ask His Name? | |
| ’Tis Jesus Christ,—the Same | 15 |
| Of Sabaoth the Lord, | |
| The Everlasting Word,— | |
| ’Tis He must win the battle. | |
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| God’s word remaineth ever sure, | |
| (To us no merit owing,) | 20 |
| The Spirit’s gifts—of sin the cure— | |
| Each day He is bestowing; | |
| Though naught we love be left, | |
| Of all, e’en life, bereft; | |
| Yet what shall Satan gain? | 25 |
| God’s kingdom doth remain, | |
| And shall be ours for ever. | | | | |
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