Wayfaring Stranger - Bill Monroe

I am a poor, wayfaring stranger

While traveling through this world below

There is no toil, no sick, no danger

In that fair land, to which I go

I’m going home to see my mother

I’m going home, no more to roam

I am just going over Jordan

I am just going over home

I know dark clouds will hover o’er me

I know my pathways rough and steep

But golden fields lie out before me

Where weary eyes no more will weep

I’m going home to see my father

I’m going home, no more to roam

I am just going over Jordan

I am just going over home

I’ll soon be free from every trial

This form shall rest beneath the sun