Poor Wayfaring Stranger David O’Dowda

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world alone
There is no sickness
Toil, or other danger
In that land to which I call

I'm going home
I'm going home
I'm just going over the Jordan
I'm just going home

I know a cloud
Will hover around me
I know my pathway's rough and steep
But golden fields lie out before me
Where my eyes no more will weep

I'm going home
I'm going home
I'm just going over the Jordan
I'm just going home

I'm going home
I'm going home
I'm just going over the Jordan
I'm just going home