🎶 The Battle Hymn Of The Republic

Mine [G]eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is [C]trampling out the vintage where the [G]grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath [G]loosed the fateful lightning of His [B7]terrible swift [Em7]sword:
His [A7]truth is [D7]marching [G]on.
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! His [A7]truth is [D7]marching [G]on.

I [G]have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,
They have [C]builded Him an altar in the evening [G]dews and damps;
I can [G]read His righteous sentence by the [B7]dim and flaring [Em7]lamps:
His [A7]day is [D7]marching [G]on.
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! His [A7]day is [D7]marching [G]on.

I have [G]read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye [C]deal with my contemners, so with [G]you my grace shall deal;
Let the [G]Hero, born of woman, crush the [B7]serpent with his [Em7]heel,
Since [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on."
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! Since [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.

He has [G]sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is [C]sifting out the hearts of men bef [G]ore His judgment-seat:
Oh, be [G]swift, my soul, to answer Him! be [B7]jubilant, my [Em7]feet!
Our [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! His [A7]truth is [D7]marching [G]on.

In the [G]beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that trans [G]figures you and me:
As He [G]died to make men holy, let us [B7]die to make men [Em7]free,
While [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! While [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.

He is [G]coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is [C]Wisdom to the mighty, He is [G]Succour to the brave,
So the [G]world shall be His footstool, and the [B7]soul of Time His [Em7]slave,
Our [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.
[G]Glory, glory, hallelujah! [C]Glory, glory, halle [G]lujah!
[G]Glory, glory, halle [B7]lu [Em7]jah! Our [A7]God is [D7]marching [G]on.