Text Based On Psalms Chapter 107
For he hath broken the gates of brass,
and cut the bars of iron in sunder.

Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Gates of Brass

Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass,
Ye bars of iron, yield,
And let the King of Glory pass;
The Word 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 heaven and hell engage
For more than death or life.
Ye armies of the living God,
His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footsteps never trod
Take thine appointed post.

Though few and small and weak thy bands,
Strong in thy Captain's strength
Go to the conquest of all lands;
All must be His at length.
Those spoils at His victorious feet
Thou shalt rejoice to lay,
And lay yourselves, as trophies meet,
In His great judgment day.

O fear not, faint not, halt not now;
Quit ye like men, be strong!
To Christ shall all the nations bow,
And sing with thee this song:
"Uplifted are the gates of brass,
The bars of iron yield;
Behold Thy King of Glory pass;
His Word hath won the field!"