First Line: Oppressed by noonday's scorching heat,

Oppressed by noonday's scorching heat,
To yonder Cross I flee,
Beneath its shelter take my seat-
No shade like this to me !

2 Beneath that Cross clear waters burst.
A fountain sparkling free,
And there I quench my desert thirst —
No spring like this to me !

3 For burdened ones a resting-place
Beside that Cross I see ;
Here I cast off my weariness —
No rest like this for me !

4 A stranger here I pitch my tent
Beneath this spreading tree ;
Here shall my pilgrim life be spent-
No home like this for me !