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;
his day is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal";
let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
since God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God 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! Our God is marching on.