1 Fear not, O little flock, the foe
Who madly seeks your overthrow;
Dread not his rage and pow'r:
What though your courage sometimes faints,
His seeming triumph o'er God's saints
Lasts but a little hour.
2 Be of good cheer; your cause belongs
To him who can avenge your wrongs;
Leave it to him, our Lord:
Though hidden yet from all our eyes,
He sees the Gideon who shall rise
To save us and his Word.
3 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 vict'ry cannot fail.
4 Amen, Lord Jesus, grant our pray'r;
Great Captain, now thine arm make bare,
Fight for us once again;
So shall thy saints and martyrs raise
A mighty chorus to thy praise,
World without end. Amen.
|First Line:||Fear not, O little flock, the foe|
|Title:||Fear Not, O Little Flock|
|Author (attr.):||Johann M. Altenburg|
|Translator:||Catherine Winkworth (1855; mod.)|
|Scripture:||Luke 12:32; Romans 8:31|
|Topic:||Anniversaries; Reformation Day; The Christian Life: Conflict With Sin(3 more...)|
|Composer:||Edward Patrick Crawford, 1846-1912|