When wea­ry and faint­ing and rea­dy to die,
To the Rock in the de­sert for safe­ty I fly;
There, ’neath its cool shel­ter from storms I would hide;
My soul is re­freshed as in Him I abide.

Refrain

O come all ye wea­ry, and bliss­ful­ly prove
That Christ is the Rock, and His sha­dow is love.

When thirs­ty and parched with the heat of the day,
To the Rock that was smit­ten I’ll haste me and say,
Give me a cool drink from Thy boun­ti­ful store,
And quick­ly and free­ly the life wa­ters pour.

Refrain

Though bil­lows of sor­row around me may roll,
And dan­gers of mid­night may trou­ble my soul,
I’ll haste to the Rock that is high­er than I,
And safe­ly I’ll rest till the night pass­eth by.

Refrain