Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By III. A Fortress sure is God our KingGodfrey Thring (18231894)
A F
A Shield that ne’er shall fail us,
His sword alone shall succour bring,
When evil doth assail us;
With craft and cruel hate
Doth Satan lie in wait,
And, armed with deadly power,
Seeks whom he may devour;
On earth where is his equal?
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
Of Sabaoth the Lord,
The Everlasting Word,—
’Tis He must win the battle.
(To us no merit owing,)
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?
God’s kingdom doth remain,
And shall be ours for ever.