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I am a poor wayfaring strangerWandering through this world of woe.There is no sickness, toil nor dangerIn that bright world to which I go.I'm going there to meet my fatherI'm going there no more to roam;I am just going over JordanI am just going over home.I know dark clouds will gather o'er meI know my pathway's rough and steep;But golden fields lie out before meWhere weary eyes no more shall weep.I'm going there to see my motherShe said she'd meet me when I comeI am just going over JordanI am just going over home. From Letras Mania