Battle Hymn Of The Republic - Houston Whitney

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.



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.



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.



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.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.



He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,

He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor 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! Our God is marching on.

Mes yeux ont vu la gloire de la venue du Seigneur;

Il piétine le millésime où sont stockés les raisins de la colère;

Il a desserré l'éclair fatidique de sa terrible épée rapide;

Sa vérité marche.

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia!

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Sa vérité marche.



Je l'ai vu dans les feux de surveillance d'une centaine de camps qui tournent en rond

Ils lui ont construit un autel dans la rosée et l'humidité du soir;

Je peux lire sa phrase juste par les lampes tamisées et torches;

Sa journée avance.

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia!

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Sa journée avance.



Il a sonné la trompette qui n'appellera jamais la retraite;

Il tamise le c?ur des hommes devant son siège de jugement;

Oh, sois rapide, mon âme, pour lui répondre; être jubilatoire, mes pieds;

Notre Dieu marche.

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia!

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Notre Dieu marche.



Dans la beauté des lys, le Christ est né de l'autre côté de la mer,

Avec une gloire dans son sein qui nous transfigure, vous et moi;

Comme il est mort pour sanctifier les hommes, mourons pour libérer les hommes;

Pendant que Dieu marche.

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia!

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Pendant que Dieu marche.



Il vient comme la gloire du matin sur la vague,

Il est la sagesse des puissants, Il est l'honneur des courageux;

Ainsi le monde sera son marchepied et l'âme de son mauvais esclave,

Notre Dieu marche.

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia!

Gloire! Gloire! Alléluia! Notre Dieu marche.