Wayfaring Stranger

I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
      While trav'ling thro' this world of woe;
Yet there's no sickness, toil, nor danger
      In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to meet 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 o'er me,
      I know my pathways 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'm only going over Jordan,
      I'm only going over home.

I'll soon be free from ev'ry trial,
      This form will rest beneath the sod;
I'll drop the cross of self-denial,
      And enter in my home with God.
I'm going there to see my Saviour,
      To sing His praise forevermore;
I'm only going over Jordan,
      I'm only going over home.
(I am a poor wayfaring stranger—
      I'm only going over home.)

American Folk/Old Irish Folk/Catskills Folk/Spiritual~dating back to 1780