O brothers, lift your voice, triumphant songs to raise;
Till Heavín on high rejoices, and earth is filled with
Ten thousand hearts are bounding, with holy hopes and
The Gospel trump is sounding, the trump of jubilee.
Christian brothers, glorious shall be the conflictís
The cross hath been victorious, and shall be oíer its
Faith is our battle token; our Leader all controls;
Our trophies, fetters broken; our captives, ransomed
Not unto us, Lord Jesus: to Thee all praise be due,
Whose blood-bought mercy frees us, has freed our brethren,
Not unto us: in glory the angels catch the strain,
And cast their crowns before Thee exultingly again.
Great God of our salvation, Thy presence we adore;
Praise, glory, adoration be Thine forevermore;
Still on in conflict pressing on Thee Thy people call,
Thee King of kings confessing, Thee crowning Lord of all.