Classic Poem

O, to the Lord be glory! halleluiah to the Lord!
He hath stricken off our shackles and hath given us the sword
To do the righteous judgment of his everlasting Word,
As we go marching on.
Glory, glory Halleluiah!

We had waited for his token of deliverance so long
That we feared he had forgotten our two hundred years of wrong;
But at last we hear his signal in the battle-bugle's song,
And we go marching on.

Ho! fathers, brothers, slaving in the cotton and the corn!
O! wives and daughters wishing that ye never had been born!
We are your armed redeemers, and we lead the hope-forlorn,
As we go marching on.

For God hath made this people by the light of battle see
That death is on the Nation if the bond do not go free—
That by the sword of Freedmen shall the land regenerate be;
And we go marching on.

Then watch and pray, dear kindred!—when ye hear the battle-cry
Look for Freedom's Dark Crusaders where the Union-banners fly,
And to the Lord give glory! for his kingdom cometh nigh,
As we go marching on.
Glory, glory halleluiah!