tr., John Brownlie
4,6,4,6,8,8
I
Lift up the gates,
The Lord of heaven appears;
Thrust wide the doors,
The King of glory nears;
The throne is His Whose arm of might
O'erthrew the tyrant in the fight.
II
Lift up the gates, --
The gates of hades fell;
Thrust wide the doors,
He burst the doors of hell,
And prisoners in the dark abode,
Exulting, hailed the Son of God.
III
Lift up the gates, --
No power His might can meet;
Thrust wide the doors,
The foe is at His feet;
The path is cleared, the prize is won,
Enter, Thou all-victorious Son.
IV
Lift up the gates, --
They come who welcome win;
Thrust wide the doors,
And let His followers in;
They come from toil and conflict long,
Ten thousand times ten thousand strong.
V
Lift up the gates, --
Still valiant deeds are done;
Thrust wide the doors,
For laurels yet are won;
And when the victor sheathes his sword,
Receive the follower of his Lord.