"I am a pilgrim, and a stranger, traveling through this wearisome land. But I've got a home, in that yonder city, good Lord! And it's not, good Lordy, it's not made by hand. I'll see my father, mother, sister and brother, Who have gone to that sweet home And I am determined to go and see them, good Lord Over all, good Lordy, over all that distant shore And I go down to the river Jordan Just to bath my weary soul And if I could touch Just the hem of his garment, good Lord And I believe, good Lordy, I believe You've made me whole Now when I'm dead and in my coffin And all my friends all gather round They can just say that he's laying there sleeping, good Lord Sweet peace, good Lordy, sweet peace his soul is found I am a pilgrim, and a stranger, traveling through this wearisome land. I've got a home, in that yonder city, good Lord! And it's not, good Lordy, it's not made by hand.
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