I am a poor wayfaring stranger,

a traveling through this world of woe.

there’s no sickness, toil nor danger

In that bright Land to which I go.



I’m going there to meet my Mother

I’m going there no more to roam.

I’m just going over the river Jordan,

I’m  going over now to my home.

I know dark clouds will gather round me

I know my way is rough and steep.

But fields of Gold lie out before me

Where all the saints their vigil keep 


I’m going Home to meet my Father

I’m going Home no more to roam.

I’m just going over the river Jordan,

I’m going over … I’m going Home



I’ll soon be free from earthly trials,

this body resting cold in the orchard yard

I’ll drop this cross of self denial

And go singing Home to my God

I’m going Home

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