Eva Cassidy

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
While journeying through this world of woe;
And there's no sickness, toil nor danger
In that bright land to which I go.
I'm going there to see my Father,
I'm going there no more to roam;
I'm only go-going over Jordan,
I'm only go-going over home.
I know dark clouds will gather �round me,
I know my way is rough and steep;
And beautiful fields lie just before me,
Where God's redeemed there vigils keep.
I'm going there to see my Father,
I'm going there no more to roam;
I'm only go-going over Jordan,
I'm only go-going over home.