I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world of woe,
There's no sickness, no toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to see my father,
I'm going there no more to roam,
I'm going there just over Jordan,
I'm going there to my new home.
One of these mornings, and it won't be long,
All men will rise and stand side by side.
Then hand in hand they're bound for glory,
Their foes will fall before freedom's tide.
I'm goin' there to see my brother,
I'm goin' there no more to roam,
I'm goin' there just over Jordan,
I'm goin' there to my new home.
I'm goin' there to see my mother,
I'm goin' there no more to roam,
I'm goin' there just over Jordan,
I'm goin' there to my new home.
I am a poor wayfaring stranger.
Writer(s): Bob Gibson
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