Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears,
And gird the Gos­pel armor on,
March to the gates of end­less joy,
Where thy great Cap­tain-Sav­ior’s gone.

Hell and thy sins re­sist thy course,
But hell and sin are van­quished foes;
Thy Je­sus nailed them to the cross,
And sung the tri­umph when He rose.

What though the prince of dark­ness rage,
And waste the fu­ry of his spite,
Eternal chains con­fine him down
To fie­ry deeps and end­less night.

What though thine in­ward lusts re­bel,
’Tis but a strug­gling gasp for life;
The wea­pons of vic­to­ri­ous grace
Shall slay thy sins, and end the strife.

Then let my soul march bold­ly on,
Press for­ward to the heav’n­ly gate;
There peace and joy eter­nal reign,
And glit­ter­ing robes for con­quer­ors wait.

There shall I wear a star­ry crown,
And tri­umph in al­migh­ty grace,
While all the ar­mies of the skies
Join in my glo­ri­ous lead­er’s praise.