FIFES AND DRUMS
21
My country—oh, my country! The old brave call has come;
Too long your steps were lagging, too long your soul was dumb;
Tune now your wakening pulses to the throbbing of the drum,
While God 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.
Marion Couthouy Smith.
