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.
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.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His Truth Is Marching On. [2]
He Is Coming Like The Glory Of The Morning On The Wave,
He Is Wisdom To The Mighty, He Is Honour To The Brave;
So The World Shall Be His Footstool, And The Soul Of Wrong His Slave,
Our God Is Marching On.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His Truth Is Marching On.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
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