Wayfaring Stranger

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world of woe;
Yet there's no sickness, no toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go.

I'm going there to see my Father,
I'm going there no more to roam;
I'm only going over Jordan,
I'm only going over home.

I know dark clouds will gather round me,
I know my way is rough and steep;
Yet beautious fields lie just before me,
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep.

I'm going there to see my Mother,
She said she'd meet me when I come
I'm only going over Jordan,
I'm only going over home.