He was singing;
I am a poor wayfaring stranger
I'm travellin' through this world of woe
Yet there's no sickness, toil, nor danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going to see my father
I'm going there, no more to roam
I'm going over Jordan
I'm going over home
I know dark clouds will gather round me
I know my way is rough and steep
But golden fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep
I'm going home to see my mother
And all my loved ones who've gone on
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home
YOU ARE READING
Poems by ME
PoetryA bunch of Poems that I wrote. I hope you like them NOTE-goes through a lot of edits EXTRA NOTE-I probably have made a spelling/grammatical mistake so please don't be afraid to tell me
