You’ve probably heard it in a drafty church basement, or maybe during a school assembly if you grew up in a certain era. It’s "I Will Enter His Gates," better known by its repetitive, catchy hook: he has made me glad. It is one of those songs that is so ubiquitous in certain circles that we almost stop hearing the words. We just mouth them. But if you actually sit with the history and the psychology behind this specific chorus, it’s a lot more than just a campfire sing-along. It is a masterclass in how simple language creates a mood shift.
Honestly, it’s kind of fascinating.
The song isn't some ancient Gregorian chant from the 12th century, even though it feels like it’s been around forever. It’s a product of the late 20th-century worship movement. Specifically, it was popularized by Leona Von Brethorst in the 1970s. She wrote it during a time when music was shifting from formal, "thee and thou" hymns to something a bit more visceral. A bit more personal. It’s based on Psalm 100:4, which is about entering gates with thanksgiving. But the pivot to the phrase he has made me glad is where the emotional hook lives. It’s an affirmation.
The Weird Science of Why We Sing About Being Glad
Why do people keep singing this? Seriously. It’s five words. It's repetitive.
There is a concept in psychology called "self-generated persuasion." Basically, when you say something out loud yourself, you are significantly more likely to believe it than if someone else tells you. When a congregation or a group of people starts chanting he has made me glad, they aren't just reporting a fact. They are often trying to induce a state of mind. It’s a feedback loop. You sing it because you want to feel it, and by singing it, you start to feel it.
Music therapists often look at "rhythmic entrainment." This is when your heart rate and breathing start to sync up with the beat of the music. This specific song usually has a "walking" tempo—around 100 to 120 beats per minute. That is the exact tempo of a brisk, happy walk. It is physically designed to lift your mood. It’s not an accident that people clap to it.
But let's be real for a second. Sometimes you don't feel glad.
Writing about faith and emotion is tricky because it's rarely a straight line. There’s a tension in singing he has made me glad when you’re actually having a garbage day. Some critics of "happy" worship songs argue that they force a "toxic positivity." They think it’s fake. But others see it as a form of "lament-adjacent" hope—the idea that by acknowledging a source of joy outside of yourself, you can pull yourself out of a rut. It’s a choice.
Where the Song Actually Came From
Leona Von Brethorst didn't write this while sitting on a mountain of gold. In the 1970s, the "Jesus Movement" was exploding. This was a counter-culture thing. It was hippies finding faith. They wanted music that sounded like the stuff they heard on the radio, not the stuff their grandparents droned through on Sundays.
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The Maranatha! Music era changed everything.
They took these short, punchy verses and turned them into "praise choruses." Before this, hymns were long. They had six verses and told a whole story. These new choruses were different. They were "circular." You could sing them for ten minutes straight if you wanted to. The phrase he has made me glad became a cornerstone of this movement because it was easy to memorize. You didn't need a book. You just needed to listen for thirty seconds and you were in.
It’s actually a very "punk rock" approach to worship, if you think about it. Three chords and the truth. Or, in this case, one simple refrain and a lot of repetition.
The Psalm 100 Connection
The lyrics are essentially a remix of the Bible.
- "I will enter his gates with thanksgiving in my heart"
- "I will enter his courts with praise"
- "I will say this is the day that the Lord has made"
It’s all about movement. Entering. Going in. This isn't passive. Most people think of gladness as something that happens to them. Like, I won the lottery, so I’m glad. But the song frames it as a response to an action. You enter the gates, and then you find the gladness. It’s a subtle shift in perspective that most people miss because they’re too busy trying to stay on key.
Why Simple Songs Beat Complex Ones Every Time
We live in a world of complex metaphors. We want our art to be deep and layered. But when it comes to communal singing, complexity is the enemy.
If you look at the most successful songs in human history—from "Happy Birthday" to "We Will Rock You"—they share a DNA of simplicity. He has made me glad works because it doesn't ask much of the singer. It doesn't require you to be a theologian. It doesn't require a four-octave range.
It’s basically the "minimalism" of the music world.
There’s also the communal aspect. When you’re in a room and everyone is shouting the same line, your brain releases oxytocin. That’s the "bonding hormone." It’s the same stuff that's released when you hug someone or eat a really good meal with friends. The song is a delivery system for a collective neurochemical hit.
Misconceptions About the "Gladness"
One thing people get wrong is thinking that "glad" means "perfectly happy and without problems."
In the original Hebrew context of the Psalms (the word is samach), gladness is often a communal, feasting kind of joy. It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s not just a quiet smile. It’s a "shout at the top of your lungs" kind of vibe. When the song says he has made me glad, it’s implying a transformation from a state of being "stuck" to a state of being "free."
I’ve seen people sing this at funerals.
That sounds morbid, right? But it’s actually where the song carries the most weight. In that context, it’s a defiant statement. It’s saying that despite the grief, there is a core reality that remains. It’s a "nevertheless" kind of gladness. That’s a nuance you don't get from just reading the sheet music.
How to Actually Use This (Actionable Insights)
If you find yourself humming this or if you’re a worship leader trying to figure out why your sets feel flat, here are a few things to consider about the "gladness" factor.
1. Change the Tempo.
Don't just drone through it. If the song is about being glad, it should sound like it. Most versions are way too slow. It becomes a dirge. Pick it up. Give it some life. If you aren't tapping your foot, you're doing it wrong.
2. Lean Into the Repetition.
AI-generated music or overly polished pop songs try to change things up every eight bars. This song works because it stays the same. Let the repetition do the work. It’s meditative.
3. Use it as a Reset.
In your personal life, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, try the "affirmation" trick. You don't even have to sing it. Just the phrase he has made me glad acts as a cognitive reframing tool. It forces your brain to look for the "why." Why am I glad? What is the source?
4. Check the History.
Look up Leona Von Brethorst. Look up the early Maranatha! recordings from the 70s. Hearing the original "folk-rock" vibe of these songs helps you understand the energy they were meant to have. It wasn't meant to be "churchy." It was meant to be alive.
The Final Word on Gladness
At the end of the day, he has made me glad is a survivor. It survived the synth-heavy 80s, the "grunge" worship of the 90s, and the overly-produced stadium anthems of the 2010s. It’s still here.
It’s here because it addresses a fundamental human need: the desire to feel something other than anxiety. We are wired to seek joy, and sometimes we need a very simple, very repetitive, and very loud reminder of where that joy comes from.
If you want to dive deeper into how music affects your brain, check out the work of Oliver Sacks, specifically his book Musicophilia. He breaks down why these "earworms" and simple choruses stick with us even when our memories start to fade. Or, just go find an old 1975 vinyl of "The Praise Album." You’ll hear exactly what I’m talking about. The crackle of the record and the simplicity of the lyrics create a specific kind of magic that modern production just can’t replicate.
Go ahead and sing it. Even if it’s just under your breath while you’re stuck in traffic. See if it changes the air in the car. It usually does.
Next Steps:
- Audit your playlist: Find songs that use "rhythmic entrainment" to boost your mood during work.
- Read Psalm 100: Look at the original context to see how much of the "joy" was actually about community versus individual feeling.
- Listen to the 1970s originals: Compare the folk-style "I Will Enter His Gates" to modern megachurch covers to see how the "gladness" has evolved.