I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Wandering through this world of woe.
There is no sickness, toil nor danger
In that bright world to which I go.
I'm going there to meet my father
I'm going there no more to roam;
I am just going over Jordan
I am just going over home.
I know dark clouds will gather o'er me
I know my pathway's rough and steep;
But golden fields lie out before me
Where weary eyes no more shall weep.
I'm going there to see my mother
She said she'd meet me when I come
I am just going over Jordan
I am just going over home.