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 has loosed the fateful lighting Of
His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
His truth 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:
O be swift, my soul, to answer Him;
Be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
His truth 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 live to make men free,
While God is marching on.
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
Glory, glory Alleluia!
His truth is marching on.