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.

That ban­ner, bright­er than the star
That leads the train of night,
Shines on their march, and guides from far
His ser­vants to the fight.

A ho­ly war those ser­vants wage;
Mysteriously at strife;
The pow­ers of Heav’n and hell en­gage
For more than death or life.

Earth’s rank­est soil they see out­spread;
So thronged, it seems with­in,
One ci­ty of the livi­ng dead,
Dead while alive to sin.

The forms of life are ev­ery­where,
The spi­rit no­where found;
Like va­pors kind­ling in the air,
Then sink­ing in the ground.

No hope have these above the dust,
No be­ing but a breath;
In va­ni­ty and lies they trust,
Their ve­ry life is death.

Ye ar­mies of the liv­ing God,
His sac­ra­ment­al host!
Where hal­lowed foot­step ne­ver trod
Take your ap­point­ed post.

Follow the Cross, the ark of peace
Accompany your path,
To slaves and re­bels bring re­lease
From bond­age and from wrath.

A bar­ley-cake o’er­threw the camp
Of Mi­di­an, tent by tent,
Ere morn the trum­pet and the lamp
Through all in tri­umph went.

Though Chi­na’s sons like Mi­di­an’s fill
As grass­hop­pers the vale,
The sword of God and Gi­de­on still
To con­quer can­not fail.

As Je­ri­cho be­fore the blast
Of sound­ing rams’ horns fell,
Sin’s strong­holds here shall be down cast,
Down cast these gates of hell.

Truth er­ror’s le­gions must o’er­whelm
And Chi­na’s thick­est wall,
(The wall of dark­ness round her realm,)
At your loud sum­mons fall.

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.

The clos­est sealed be­tween the poles
Is op­ened to your toils;
Where thrice a hun­dred mill­ion souls
Are of­fered you for spoils.

Those spoils, at His vic­to­ri­ous feet,
You shall re­joice to lay,
And lay your­selves, as tro­phies meet,
In His great judg­ment day.

No car­nal wea­pons those ye bear,
To lay the ali­ens low;
Then strike amain, and do not spare,
There’s life in ev­ery blow.

Life! more than life on earth can be;
All in this con­flict slain
Die but to sin—eter­nal­ly
The crown of life to gain.

O fear not, faint not, halt not now;
Quit you like men, be strong;
To Christ shall Bud­dha’s vo­ta­ries bow
And sing with you this song:

Uplifted are the gates of brass,
The bars of ir­on yield;
Behold the King of Glo­ry pass;
The cross hath won the field.