I'm a poor wayfaring stranger
I'm traveling in 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 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
But golden fields lie just before me
Where the redeemed shall ever sleep

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