A Mighty Fortress Is Our God

A Mighty Fortress Is My God - Martin Luther, 1483-1546 (Translated by Frederick H. Hedge, 1805-1890)

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 pow'r 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 -
Lord Sabbaoth His name,
From age to age the same -
And He must win the battle.

And tho' this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us;
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to triumph thru 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.

That word above all earthly pow'rs -
No thanks to them - abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours
Thru 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.

The Love of God

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell
It goes beyond the highest star
And reaches to the lowest hell.
The guilty pair bowed down with care,
God sent His Son to win
His erring child, He reconciled
And pardoned from his sin.

Refrain:

O Love of God, so rich and pure
So measureless and strong.
It shall forever more endure
The saints' and angels' song!

When years of time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men, who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade-
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky!


Story of the Song: Words by Fred­er­ick M. Leh­man; he wrote this song in 1917 in Pas­a­de­na, Cal­i­fornia, and it was pub­lished in Songs That Are Dif­fer­ent, Vol­ume 2, 1919. The lyr­ics are based on the Jew­ish poem Had­da­mut, writ­ten in Ara­ma­ic in 1050 by Meir Ben Isaac Ne­hor­ai, a can­tor in Worms, Ger­ma­ny; they have been trans­lat­ed in­to at least 18 lang­uages.

One day, dur­ing short in­ter­vals of in­at­ten­tion to our work, we picked up a scrap of pa­per and, seat­ed up­on an emp­ty le­mon box pushed against the wall, with a stub pen­cil, add­ed the (first two) stan­zas and chor­us of the song…Since the lines (3rd stan­za from the Jew­ish po­em) had been found pen­ciled on the wall of a pa­tient’s room in an in­sane asy­lum af­ter he had been car­ried to his grave, the gen­er­al opin­ion was that this in­mate had writ­ten the epic in mo­ments of san­ity. - Frederick M. Lehman, “History of the Song, The Love of God,” 1948

I Trust In Jesus

Before this body turns to dust
Before this world I leave
Upon The Lord I’ve placed my trust
Upon The Rock I’ll cleave

I’ve placed my trust in Jesus Christ
God’s Son of flesh and bone
The innocent Lamb sacrificed
I trust His word alone

I trust He chose for man to die
Then rose again to reign
That as God’s Seed He’d multiply
His flock when born-again

I trust His blood can cleanse the soul
I trust His blood can save
His very name can make us whole
And save us from the grave

I trust in Jesus’ loving care
I trust He bore my shame
I trust the love He came to share
Remains today the same

I trust the pardon Jesus bought
Can save this wretch from hell
I trust Salvation’s true report
My Saviour had to tell

Although the devil’s out to harm
Though Satan, he’s out to kill
I trust my Lord’s almighty arm
I trust His righteous will

I trust my life to Christ The Lord
I trust in Heaven’s Door
I trust in God’s Almighty Sword
I’ll trust Him evermore…

Michael P. Johnson


Testimony of Michael P. Johnson:
All praise and glory to The Living Lord; God and Jesus Christ my soon coming King.
Born a sinner saved by grace. I first truly began going to church at the tender age of 46 years 10 months. After six wonderful life changing months. After thoroughly reading the Bible and believing it from front to back true! I was born-again through the precious blood of my personal Saviour Jesus Christ. After accepting that He is who He & God’s Word (Bible) says He is. I further can testify that The Lord God Jesus Christ LIVES.

For even as an insignificant wretch that I was, six times I personally audibly heard the voice of The Living God. Once The Father, four times Jesus; the Holy Spirit once. Always distinct audible. Though each time was different some lengthy, others short. Countless other times in diverse ways I have recognised God speaking to me. So now I can never doubt that The Godhead well & truly lives! ! !

The Weaver

I had this poem written on my birthday card sometime in 1992. The author was 'unknown'; yet I searched in the net for some authorship to this poem; I am not sure I found some, because the second part of this poem is attributed to B.M. Franklin. But the first part was different in the original version. But here it is, just as I received it.

Behind our lives the Weaver stands
And works His wondrous will;
We leave it in His all-wise hands
And trust His perfect skill.
Should mystery enshroud His plan
And our short sight be dim;
We will not try the whole to scan -
But leave each thread to Him.

Not until the loom is silent
And the shuttle ceases to fly
Will God unroll the batten
And explain the reason why
The dark threads were as needful,
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As threads of gold and silver;
For the pattern He has planned.

- Unknown

The Battle of the Self

Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered:
'All of self, and none of Thee'

Yet He found me: I beheld Him
Bleeding on the accursed tree;
Heard Him pray, "Forgive them, Father",
And my wistful heart said faintly:
'Some of self and some of Thee'

Day by day, His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered:
'Less of self and more of Thee'

Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered;
Grant me now my soul's desire:
'None of self but all of Thee'

- Unknown

When I became a Christian by Adrian Plass

Blog-frogging (if I may use that word), which I do by pressing "NEXT BLOG>>" tab in the Blogger menu, has its advantages...You do come across some good blokes out there with their well-written blogs and interesting stories to tell. But what do you do when the post is really something that you liked but is copied (with credits, of course!) from some other blogger? I thought, if the article deserved a wide audience, why not post it again (with original credits, of course) into your own blog? Here's one such extract from a really GOOD poem by Adrian Plass...

When I became a Christian I said, Lord, now fill me in,
Tell me what I’ll suffer in this world of shame and sin.
He said, your body may be killed, and left to rot and stink,
Do you still want to follow me? I said Amen - I think.
I think Amen, Amen I think, I think I say Amen,
I’m not completely sure, can you just run through that again?
You say my body may be killed and left to rot and stink,
Well, yes, that sounds terrific, Lord, I say Amen - I think.

But, Lord, there must be other ways to follow you, I said,
I really would prefer to end up dying in my bed.
Well, yes, He said, you could put up with the sneers and scorn and spit,
Do you still want to follow me? I said Amen - a bit.
A bit Amen, Amen a bit, a bit I say Amen,
I’m not entirely sure, can we just run through that again?
You say I could put up with sneers and also scorn and spit,
Well, yes, I’ve made my mind up, and I say, Amen - a bit.

Well I sat back and thought a while, then tried a different ploy,
Now, Lord, I said, the Good book says that Christians live in joy.
That’s true he said, you need the joy to bear the pain and sorrow,
So do you want to follow me, I said, Amen - tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Lord, I’ll say it then, that’s when I’ll say Amen,
I need to get it clear, can I just run through that again?
You say that I will need the joy, to bear the pain and sorrow,
Well, yes, I think I’ve got it straight, I’ll say Amen - tomorrow.

He said, Look, I’m not asking you to spend an hour with me
A quick salvation sandwich and a cup of sanctity,
The cost is you, not half of you, but every single bit,
Now tell me, will you follow me? I said Amen - I quit.
I’m very sorry Lord I said, I’d like to follow you,
But I don’t think religion is a manly thing to do.
He said forget religion then, and think about my Son,
And tell me if you’re man enough to do what he has done.

Are you man enough to see the need, and man enough to go,
Man enough to care for those whom no one wants to know,
Man enough to say the thing that people hate to hear,
To battle through Gethsemane in loneliness and fear.
And listen! Are you man enough to stand it at the end,
The moment of betrayal by the kisses of a friend;
Are you man enough to hold your tongue, and man enough to cry?
When nails break your body-are you man enough to die?

Man enough to take the pain, and wear it like a crown,
Man enough to love the world and turn it upside down,
Are you man enough to follow me, I ask you once again?
I said, Oh Lord, I’m frightened, but I also said Amen.
Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen; Amen, Amen, Amen;
I said, Oh Lord, I’m frightened, but I also said, Amen.

- Adrian Plass