The Shadow of the Cross (Bonar)

Oppressed with noon-day’s scorch­ing heat

To yon­der cross I flee;

Beneath its shel­ter take my seat;

No shade like this for me!

Beneath that cross clear wa­ters burst

A fount­ain spark­ling free;

And there I quench my de­sert thirst;

No spring 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!

For bur­dened ones a rest­ing place

Beside that cross I see;

Here I cast off my wea­ri­ness;

No rest like this for me!