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Through our own force we nothing can,

Straight were we lost for ever;
But for us fights the proper Man,
By God sent to deliver.

Ask ye who this may be ?
Christ Jesus named is He.
Of Sabaoth the Lord;

Sole God to be adored;
'Tis He must win the battle.
And were the world with devils filled,

All eager to devour us,
Our souls to fear should little yield,
They cannot overpower us.

Their dreaded Prince no more
Can harm us as of yore;
Look grim as e'er he may,

Doomed is his ancient sway;
A word can overthrow him.
God's word for all their craft and force

One moment will not linger:
But spite of Hell shall have its course
'Tis written by His finger.

And though they take our life,
Goods, honour, children, wife;
Yet is there profit small :

These things shall vanish all;

The city of God remaineth. The following is given in Julian's Dictionary of Hymnology as the earliest High German Text 'now accessible to us. It is that of 1531 :

LIN' feste burg ist unser Gott,

I ein gute wehr und waffen.
Er hilfft unns frey aus aller not

die uns ytzt hat betroffen,

Der alt böse feind
mit ernst ers ytzt meint,
gros macht und viel list

sein grausam rüstung ist,
auf erd ist nicht seins gleichen.
Mit unser macht ist nichts gethan,

wir sind gar bald verloren;
Es streit fur uns der rechte man,
den Gott hat selbs erkoren.

Fragstu, wer der ist?
er heist Jhesu Christ
der Herr Zebaoth,

und ist kein ander Gott,
das felt mus er behalten.
Und wenn die welt vol Teuffell wehr

und wolt uns gar vorschlingen
So fürchten wir uns nicht zu sehr
es sol uns doch gelingen.

Der Fürst dieser welt,
wie sawr er sich stellt.
thut er unns doch nicht,

das macht, er ist gericht,
ein wörtlin kan yhn fellen.
Das wort sie sollen lassen stahn

und kein danck dazu haben,
Er ist bey unns wol auff dem plan
mit seinem geist und gaben.

Nemen sie den leib,
gut, eher, kindt unnd weib
las faren dahin,

sie habens kein gewin, das reich mus uns doch bleiben. TUNE _ "WORMS," ALSO CALLED “EIN' FESTE BURG." The Forty-sixth Psalm was always a great stand-by for fighting men. The Huguenots and Covenanters used to cheer their hearts in the extremity of adverse fortunes by the solemn chant

God is our refuge and our strength,

In straits a present aid;
Therefore, although the earth remove,

We will not be afraid. It will be noted that although Luther's Hymn is sug. gested by the Forty-sixth Psalm, it is really Luther's Psalm, not David's. Only the idea of the stronghold is taken from the Scripture, the rest is Luther's own, "made in Germany," indeed, and not only so, but one of the most potent influences that have contributed to the making of Germany. And who knows how soon again we may see the fulfilment of Heine's speculation, when Germans “may soon have to raise again these old words, flashing and pointed with iron '? That M. de Voguë does not stray beyond his book there is ample evidence to prove. For instance, Cassell's History of the Franco-German war describes how, the day after the battle of Sedan, a multitude of German troops, who were on the march for Paris, found it impossible to sleep, wearied though they were. They were billeted in the Parish Church of Augecourt. The excitement of the day had been too great; the memory of the bloody fight and their fallen comrades mingled strangely with pride of victory and the knowledge that they had rescued their country from the foe. Suddenly in the twilight and the stillness a strain of melody proceeded from the organ, - at first softly, very softly, and then with ever-increasing force, – the grand old hymn-tune, familiar as “household words to every German ear, “Nun danket alle Gott," swelled along the vaulted aisles. With one voice officers and men joined in the holy strains; and when the hymn was ended, the performer, a simple villager, came forward and delivered a short, simple, heartfelt speech. Then, turning

again to the organ, he struck up Luther's old hymn, “ Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott,' and again all joined with heart and voice. The terrible strain on their system, which had tried their weary souls and had banished slumber from their eyes, was now removed, and they laid themselves down with thankful hearts and sought and found the rest they so much needed.

Frederick the Great on one occasion called Luther's Hymn “ God Almighty's Grenadier March.”

16-GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS'S BATTLE

HYMN. Few figures stand out so visibly against the bloody mist of the religious wars of the seventeenth century as that of Gustavus Adolphus, the hero-king of Sweden, who triumphed at Leipsic and who fell dead on the morning of victory at Lützen. The well-known hymn beginning “ Verzage nicht, du Häuflein," which is known as Gustavus Adolphus's Battle Hymn, was composed by Pastor Altenburg, at Erfurt, on receiving the news of the great victory of Leipsic, which gave fresh heart and hope to the Protestants of Germany. It was sung on the morning of the Battle of Lützen, under the following circumstances : When the morning of Nov. 16, 1632, dawned, the Catholic and Protestant armies under Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus stood facing each other. Gustavus ordered all his chaplains to hold a service of prayer. He threw himself upon his knees and prayed fervently while the whole army burst out into a lofty song of praise and prayer,

“Verzage nicht, du Häuflein klein.” As they prayed and sang a mist descended, through which neither army could discern the foe. The King set his troops in battle-array, giving them as their watchword, « God with us." As he rode along the lines, he ordered the kettle-drums and trumpets to strike up Luther's hymns,“ Ein' feste Burg” and “ Es

wollt uns Gott genädig sein.” As they played, the soldiers joined in as with one voice. The mist began to lift, the sun shone bright, and Gustavus knelt again in prayer. Then rising, he cried : “Now we will set to, please God," and then louder he said, “Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, help me this day to fight for the honour of Thy name!" "Then he charged the enemy at full speed, defended only by a leathern gorget. "God is my harness,” he replied to his servant, who rushed to put on his armour. The battle was hot and bloody. At eleven in the forenoon the fatal bullet struck Gustavus, and he sank dying from his horse, crying, “My God, my God!” The combat went on for hours afterwards, but when twilight fell Wallenstein's army broke and fled, and the dead king remained victor of the field on which with his life he had purchased the religious liberties of Northern Europe.

LEAR not, O little flock, the foe,
T Who madly seeks your overthrow,

Dread not his rage and power;
What, tho' your courage sometimes faints,
His seeming triumph o'er God's saints

Lasts but a little hour.
Be of good cheer, — your cause belongs
To Him who can avenge your wrongs,

Leave it to Him, our Lord.
Tho' hidden yet from all our eyes,
He sees the Gideon who shall rise

To save us, and his word.
As true as God's own word is true,
Nor earth, nor hell, with all their crew,

Against us shall prevail, -
A jest and byword are they grown;
God is with us," we are His own,

Our victory cannot fail.

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