| I am a poor wayfaring stranger
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| While travelling through this world of woe;
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| Yet there’s no sickness, toil nor danger
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| In that bright world to which I go.
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| I’m going there to see my Father,
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| I’m going there no more to roam;
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| I’m only going over Jordan,
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| I’m only going over home.
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| I know dark clouds will gather ‘round me,
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| I know my way is rough and steep;
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| The golden fields lie out before me,
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| Where those redeemed shall ever sleep.
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| I’m going there to see my Mother,
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| She said she’d meet me when I come
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| I’m only going over Jordan,
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| I’m only going over home.
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| I’ll soon be free of every trial
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| My body asleep in the churchyard
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| I’ll drop the cross of self-denial
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| And enter on my great reward.
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| I’m going there to see my saviour
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| To sing his praise for evermore
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| I’m only going over Jordan,
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| I’m only going over home. |