Classic Poem

I'm a poor wayfaring stranger,
While journeying through this world of woe,
Yet there's no sickness, toil, and danger,
In that bright world to which I go;
I'm going there to see my father,
I'm going there no more to roam,
I'm just going over Jordan,
I'm just going over home.

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me,
I know my way is rough and steep,
Yet bright fields lie just before me,
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep;
I'm going there to see my mother,
She said she'd meet me when I come,
I'm just going over Jordan,
I'm just going over home.

I'll soon be free from every trial,
My body will sleep in the old churchyard,
I'll drop the cross of self-denial,
And enter on my great reward;
I'm going there to see my Savior,
To sing His praise in Heaven's dome,
I'm just going over Jordan,
I'm just going over home.