tr., John Brownlie
Now let the gates be lifted up,
That Christ may enter in,
Who drank for man the bitter cup,
And crushed the power of sin;
He enters, lo! a Victor brave,
Triumphant from the yawning grave.
Did death and hell their power unite
To hold their prize? in vain;
For morn awoke upon the night,
And death and hell were slain;
All hail the Victor from the grave,
Who rose from death our souls to save.
Now let the Christ His right assume, --
The throne of high renown;
No more do thorns His temples fret,
He wears a regal crown; --
Up, myriad hosts, your praises bring,
And laud the All-victorious King.
To God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Spirit blest,
Be glory while the ages run,
By angel hosts exprest;
And souls from death's dark bondage won,
By Christ, the All-victorious Son.