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.

Glory! Glory, Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory, Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory, Hallelujah!
His Truth Is Marching On.

I Have Seen Him In The Watchfires 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.

He Has Sounded Forth The Trumpet That Shall Never Sound Retreat;
He Is Sifting Out The Hearts Of Men Before His Judgment Seat;
O 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;
While God Is Marching On.

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Traditional Hymns, English Christian Songs,

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