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- 

The Lord of Hosts 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.
 A mighty fortress,

A Rock unfailing,

The King of Glory, Forever Amen

For endless ages,

Enthroned in praises,

The King of Glory, Forever Amen

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.
 A mighty fortress,

A Rock unfailing,

The King of Glory, Forever Amen

For endless ages,

Enthroned in praises,

The King of Glory, Forever Amen

 A mighty fortress,

A Rock unfailing,

The King of Glory, Forever Amen

For endless ages,

Enthroned in praises,

The King of Glory, Forever

Forever Amen
A Mighty Fortress
M and W—Matt Boswell, Frederick Hedge, Martin Luther
© 2014 Doxology & Theology Music
CCLI License #1501423
 O Lord, my God, 

when I in awesome wonder

Consider all the worlds 

Thy hands have made,

I see the stars, 

I hear the rolling thunder,

Thy power throughout 

the universe displayed.
 Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!
 When thro’ the woods

and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds

sing sweetly in the trees,

When I look down

from lofty mountain grandeur,

And hear the brook

and feel the gentle breeze;

 Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!
And when I think that God, 

His Son not sparing,

Sent Him to die, 

I scarce can take it in;

That on the cross, 

my burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died 

to take away my sin.
 Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!
 When Christ shall come 

with shouts of acclamation

And take me home,

what joy shall fill my heart!


Then I shall bow

in humble adoration

And there proclaim:

my God, how great Thou art!

 Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, 

my Savior God, to Thee;

How great Thou art! 

How great Thou art!

How Great Thou Art

W—Stuart K. Hine W—Swedish Folk Melody

© 1953 Manna Music Inc

CCLI License #1501423

 Jesus draw me ever nearer

As I labor through the storm.

You have called me to this passage,

and I'll follow, though I'm worn.

 May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest;

Keep my spirit staid and sure.

When the midnight meets the morning,

Let me love You even more.

 May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

 May the treasures of the trial

Form within me as I go -

And at the end of this long passage,

Let me leave them at Your throne.

 May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer

W--Margaret Becker M--Keith Getty

© Modern M Music © 2001 Thankyou Music

CCLI License #1501423

My faith has found a resting place,

Not in device or creed;

I trust the ever living One,

His wounds for me shall plead.

 I need no other argument,

I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died,

And that He died for me.

Enough for me that Jesus saves,

This ends my fear and doubt;

A sinful soul I come to Him,

He’ll never cast me out.

 I need no other argument,

I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died,

And that He died for me.

My heart is leaning on the Word,

The written Word of God,

Salvation by my Savior’s Name,

Salvation through His blood.

 I need no other argument,

I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died,

And that He died for me.

 My great Physician heals the sick,

The lost He came to save;

For me His precious blood He shed,

For me His life He gave.
 I need no other argument,

I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died,

And that He died for me.

528 My Faith Has Found a Resting Place

W--Lidie H. Edmunds M--Norwegian Fold melody; arranged by William J. Kirkpatrick

CCLI License #1501423

 Dear refuge of my weary soul,

on Thee, when sorrows rise,

On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,

my fainting hope relies.

To Thee I tell each rising grief,

for Thou alone canst heal;

Thy Word can bring a sweet relief

for every pain I feel.

 But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,

I fear to call Thee mine;

The springs of comfort seem to fail,

and all my hopes decline.

Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?

Thou art my only trust;

And still my soul would cleave to Thee,

though prostrate in the dust.
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
and shall I seek in vain?

And can the ear of sov’reign grace

be deaf when I complain?

No, still the ear of sov’reign grace

attends the mourner’s prayer;

O may I ever find access

to breathe my sorrows there.

 Thy mercy seat is open still,

here let my soul retreat;

With humble hope attend Thy will,

and wait beneath Thy feet.

Thy mercy seat is open still,

here let my soul retreat;

With humble hope attend Thy will,

and wait beneath Thy feet.

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul

W—Anne Steele M—Matt Merker

© 2014 Matt Merker