O brothers, lift your voice, triumphant songs to raise;
Till Heav�n on high rejoices, and earth is filled with
praise;
Ten thousand hearts are bounding, with holy hopes and
free;
The Gospel trump is sounding, the trump of jubilee.
O
Christian brothers, glorious shall be the conflict�s
close;
The cross hath been victorious, and shall be o�er its
foes;
Faith is our battle token; our Leader all controls;
Our trophies, fetters broken; our captives, ransomed
souls.
Not unto us, Lord Jesus: to Thee all praise be due,
Whose blood-bought mercy frees us, has freed our brethren,
too.
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.