Druhá Tráva

I am a poor wayfaring stranger,
While traveling trough this world of woe
Yet there´s no sicknes, toil or danger,
In that bright world to which I go.

I´m going there to see my father,
I´m going there no more to roam,
I´m only going over Jordan,
I´m only Going over home.

I know dark clouds will gather round me,
I know my way, is rough and steep,
Yet beateous fields lies just before me,
Where god´s redeem their vigils keep.

I´m going there to see my mother,
She sad she´d meet me, when I will come,
I´m only going over Jordan,
I´m only going over home.

I´ll soon be freed from every trial,
My body sleep in the church yard,
I´ll drop the cross of self-deniyal,
And enter on my great reward.

I´m going there to see my Savior,
To sing his praise forevemore
I´m only going over Jordan,
I´m only going over home.