Come, Ye Thankful People
George J. Elvey
Come, ye thankful people, come-
Raise the song of harvest home
All is safely gathered in
Ere the winter storms begin.
For our wants to be supplied:
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.
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 His harvest home:
From His field shall in that day
All offenses purge away-
In the fire the tares to cast
But the fruitful ears to store
Give His angels charge at last
In His garner evermore.
Even so, Lord, quickly come
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.