Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Our God is marching on.

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.


He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgement seat;

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant, my feet!


Our God is marching on.


Paul wrote to the Church at Corinth, Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality” (I Cor. 15:51-53).




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