Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass
1 Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass,
Ye bars of iron, yield,
And let the King of Glory pass;
The cross is in the field:
2 Ye armies of the living God,
His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footsteps never trod
Take your appointed post:
3 Follow the cross; the ark of peace, Accompany your path, To slaves and rebels bring release, From bondage and from wrath.
4 Though few and small and weak your bands,
Strong in your Captain's strength
Go to the conquest of all lands;
All must be his at length.
5 O fear not, faint nor, halt not now;
In Jesus' Name be strong;
To him shall all the nations bow,
And sing with you this song:
6 Uplifted are the gates of brass,
The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of Glory pass;
The cross has won the field.