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 :
Our God is marching on.
Glory ! glory ! Hallelujah!
Glory ! glory ! Hallelujah !
Glory ! glory I Hallelujah !
Our God is marching on.
2 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 :
Our God is marching on.
3 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.
4 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.