Classic Poem

I am a poor pilgrim of sorrow,
I'm tossed in this wide world alone.
No hope have I for tomorrow,
I've started to make heav'n my home.

Refrain:

Sometimes I am tossed and driven, Lord,
Sometimes I don't know where to roam,
I've heard of a city called heaven,
I've started to make it my home.

My mother has reached that pure glory,
My father's still walkin' in sin
My brothers and sisters won't own me,
Because I am tryin' to get in.