Wayfaring stranger.

April 15, 2014.

I am a poor, wayfaring stranger,

We belong to the King enthroned above.
We are but strangers in this land of toil.
We place our citizenship in the land beyond.
We have no part in this land’s soil.

While traveling through this world of woe.

This is a land of sickness, toil and death.
This cannot compare to what lies ahead.
This is a land of troubles and trials.
A burdened land where wicked is fed.

Yet there’s no sickness, toil nor danger

The light is there, seen from afar.
The end of life’s pains will soon be here.
Our journey is all but completely o’re.
T’will bring the end of death, pain and fear.

In that bright land to which I go.

That land shines in glorious light.
That for which our eyes long.
There our Father will ever be.
Our voices to praise in everlasting song.

I’m going there to see my Father.

Hallelujah to the eternal one.
He from whom all good things flow.
Hallelujah to the King of kings.
May his glory our songs ever show.

I’m going there no more to roam.

Alas! All trials will be dead and gone.
Our rest will forever be sweet.
Surrounded we are by those we love.
The Lord, our God, at last to meet.

I’m only going over Jordan.

Oh Israel, the chose of God!
That sweet river that leads us home.
A chosen people, a royal priesthood!
We’re going there no more to roam!

I’m only going over home.

We belong to the King enthroned above.
We are but strangers in this land of toil.
We place our citizenship in the land beyond.
We have no part in this land’s soil.

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