R5368-375 Poem: Our King Is Marching On

::R5368 : page 375::

“Mine eyes can see the glory of the presence of the Lord;
He is trampling out the winepress where His grapes of wrath are stored;
I see the flaming tempest of His swift descending sword:
Our King is marching on.

“The seventh trump is sounding, and our King knows no defeat.
He will sift out the hearts of men before His Judgment Seat.
O! be swift, my soul, to welcome Him, be jubilant, my feet;
Our King is marching on.”