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O brothers, lift your voices 
O brothers, lift your voices, triumphant songs to raise; till heaven on high rejoices, and earth is filled 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, ransomed souls. 
Not unto us--Lord Jesus, to thee all praise be due; who 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. 
Great God 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.