PART I. Lift 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 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. | Earth's rankest soil they see outspread; So throng'd, it seems within, One city of the living dead, Dead while alive to sin. | The forms of life are everywhere, The spirit nowhere found; Like vapours kindling in the air, Then sinking in the ground. | No hope have these above the dust, No being but a breath; In vanity and lies they trust Their very life is death. 273 | PART II. Ye armies of the living God, His sacramental host! Where hallow'd footstep never trod, Take your appointed post. | Follow the Cross, the ark of peace Accompany your path, To slaves and rebels bring release From bondage and from wrath. | A barley-cake o'erthrew the camp Of Midian, tent by tent, Ere morn the trumpet and the lamp Through all in triumph went. | Though China's sons like Midian's fill As grasshoppers the vale, The sword of God and Gideon still To conquer cannot fail. | As Jericho before the blast Of sounding rams' horns fell, Sin's strongholds here shall be down cast, Down cast these gates of hell. | Truth error's legions must o'erwhelm And China's thickest wall, (The wall bf darkness round her realm,) At your loud summons fall. | Though few and small and weak your bands, Strong in your Captain's strength, Go to the conquest of all lands, All must be His at length. | 274 The closest seal'd between the poles Is open'd to your toils; Where thrice a hundred million souls Are offer'd you for spoils. | Those spoils, at His victorious feet, You shall rejoice to lay, And lay yourselves, as trophies meet, In His great Judgment-day. | PART III. No carnal weapons those ye bear, To lay the aliens low; Then strike amain, and do not spare, There's life in every blow. | Life!--more than life on earth can be; All in this conflict slain Die but to sin,--eternally The crown of life to gain. | O fear not, faint not, halt not now; Quit you like men, be strong; To Christ shall Buddhu's votaries bow And sing with you this song: | "Uplifted are the gates of brass, The bars of iron yield; Behold the King of Glory pass; The Cross hath won the field." | |