Mine eyes have seen the glory of
the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage
where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful
lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
Refrain:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on
I have seen Him in the
watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded Him an altar in
the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence
by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel writ
in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my
contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman,
crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on."
He has sounded forth the trumpet
that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of
men before His judgment-seat:
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer
Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies
Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that
transfigures you and me:
As he died to make men holy, let
us die to make men free, (parfois "let us live to make men free")
While God is marching on.
He is coming like the glory of
the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is
honor to the brave;
So the world shall be His
footstool, and the soul of wrong His slave,
Our God is marching on.
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