I am a poor, wayfaring stranger   Wandering o'er this world of woe   And there's no sickness, toil or danger   In that bright land to which I go   I'm going home to see my father   I'm going home, 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 beautious fields lie just before me   Where men redeemed their vigil's keep   I'm going home to see my mother   I'm going there, no more to roam   I'm only going over Jordan   I'm only going over home