Вступление
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world of woe
There's no sickness, toil nor danger
In that fair land to which I go
I'm going there to see my father
I'm going there, no more to roam
I'm just a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home
I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is rough and steep
Yet beauteous fields lie out 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 a-going over Jordan
I'm just a-going over home
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
I'm just a-going over home