Source..https://goo.gl/images/FdRbF4
I am a poor wayfaring stranger;
I sometimes know not where to roam;
I heard of a city called heaven,
I'm trying to make it my home.
Sometimes I'm both tossed and driven;
Sometimes I know not where to roam;
I heard of a city called heaven,
I'm trying to make it my home.
My friends and relations forsake me,
And troubles roll round me so high;
I thought of the kind voice of Jesus
Saying, ' Poor pilgrim, I'm always high.'
Thank you God for your mercy.