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.

I have seen Him the watch fires of a hundred circling camps,

They have builded Him on altar in the evening dews and damps

I can read His righteous and sentence By the dim and flaring lamps

His day is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea.

With a glory in His bossom that transfigure you and me.

As he died to make men Holy, et us live to make men free.

While God is marching on.