Classic Poem

O brothers, lift your voices,
Triumphant songs to raise;
Till heaven on high rejoices,
And earth is fill'd 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, ransom'd 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.

Captain of our salvation,
Thy presence we adore:
Praise, glory, adoration
Be Thine for evermore.
Still on in conflict pressing
On Thee Thy people call,
Thee King of kings confessing,
Thee crowning Lord of all.