Traditional — Wayfaring Stranger

I am a poor wayfaring stranger Travelling through this world of woe And there's no sickness, no toil or danger In that fair 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 round me I know my way will be rough and steep But golden fields lie out before me Where all the saints their vigils keep I'm going there to meet my mother I'm going there no more to roam I'm only going over Jordan I'm only going over home