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 lightning of His terrible swift sword
And He’s marching, marching on
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat
And He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgement seat
Oh be swift my soul to answer Him, be jubilant my feet
Hey, feet keep marching, keep on marching on
Hey yeah, feet keep marching, keep on marching on
Well, 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
Keep marching, marching on
Keep marching
