Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.
Battle Hymn of the RepublicJulia Ward Howe (18191910)
M
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.
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps:
I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal:
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.”
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.
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.