I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
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wandering through this world of woe,
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and there’s no sickness, no toil or danger
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in that bright land to which I go.
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I’m going there to meet 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 from every trial,
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my body asleep in the old graveyard.
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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 meet 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 am a poor wayfaring stranger,
|
wandering through this world of woe,
|
and there’s no sickness, no toil or danger
|
In that bright land to which I go.
|
I’m going there to see my sister,
|
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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Poor Wayfaring Stranger
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| Joan Baez |
