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an irish song — folkvisor — catalog — Foton — GPS — Ned
by Julia Ward Howe
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
An image of the February, 1862 Atlantic,
containing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."
the Original one
♫ stop the music
siman_sheata_tzayir.mp3 ♫
Update: 2010 08 12 URL: http://www.blompottan.se/TEL/7192/sim.htm