I am a poor wayfaring stranger
While journeying through this world of woe;
And there
In that bright world to which I go.
I
I
I
I
I know dark clouds will gather
I know my way is rough and steep;
And beautiful fields lie just before me,
Where God
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I want to wear that crown of glory,
When I get home to that good land;
Well I want to shout salvation
In concert with ohh the blood-washed band,
I
I
I
I
Well I
Yeah only go-going over home.