Paroles de Poor Wayfaring Stranger

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