Oppressed by noonday's scorching heat, To yonder cross I flee, Beneath its shelter take my seat; No shade like this to me. Beneath that cross, clear waters burst, A fountain sparkling free. And there I quench my desert thirst, No spring like this for me. For burdened ones, a resting place Beside that cross I see; Here I cast off my weariness; No rest like this for me. A stranger here, I pitch my tent Beneath this spreading tree; Here shall my pilgrim life be spent - No home like this for me.