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Poutníci – Wayfaring stranger

1. I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
A trav'ling through this land of woe.
And there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright world to which I go

R. I'm going there to meet my Father
I'm going there no more to roam
I'm just a going over Jordan
I'm just a going over home.

2. I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is rough and steep
Yet beauteous fields lie just before me
Where souls redeemed their vigil keep.

R. I'm going there…