Come, Ye Thankful People

Henry Alford (1844)

Lyrics

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home; all is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied; come to God's own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.


All the world is God's own field, fruit unto His praise to yield; wheat and tares together sown unto joy or sorrow grown; first the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear; Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.


For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take the harvest home; from His field shall in that day all offenses purge away, give His angels charge at last in the fire the tares to cast; but the fruitful ears to store in the garner evermore.


Even so, Lord, quickly come, to Thy final harvest home; gather Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin, there, forever purified, in Thy presence to abide; come, with all Thine angels, come, raise the glorious harvest home.

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