I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
While traveling through this world below;
There is no sickness, toil, or 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.
I'm going there to see my classmates,
Who passed before me one by one;
I am just going over Jordan,
I am just going over home.
I'll soon be free from every 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,
Who shed for me His precious blood;
I am just going over Jordan,
I am just going over home.
