PRESBYTER C. M. D. Copyright, 1895, by The Trustees of the Presbyterian Board of Publication and Sabbath-School Work IFT up your heads, ye gates of brass, Ye bars of iron, yield, And let the King of glory pass; The cross is in the field: That banner, brighter than the star That leads the train of night, Shines on their march, and guides from far 2 A holy war those servants wage; Mysteriously at strife, The powers of heaven and hell engage His sacramental host, Where hallowed footsteps never trod 3 Though few and small and weak your bands, Go to the conquest of all lands; 4 O fear not, faint not, halt not now; James Montgomery, 1843, v: 4, line 3 alt. |