Stand-offishness.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world alone There is no sickness, toil nor danger In that fair land to which I go I'm going home To see my mother I'm going home No more to roam I am just going over Jordan I am just going over home I know dark clouds will hover on me, I know my pathway is rough and steep I'll soon be free from every trial This form shall rest beneath the sun I'll drop the cross of self-denial