On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.

Don’t you feel like going home,
My home it is in the promised land,
And I feel like going home.

O, the transporting rapt’rous scene,
That rises to my sight!
Sweet fields arrayed in living green,
And rivers of delight.

Yes, I feel like going home,
My home it is in the promised land,
And I feel like going home.

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