557   Come Ye Thankful People




[1]
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!

[2]
We ourselves are 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;
Grant O harvest Lord that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

[3]
For the Lord our God shall come
And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall purge away
All that doth offend that day;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.

[4]
Then thou church triumphant come
Raise the song of harvest home;
All are safely gathered in
Free from sorrow free from sin;
There forever purified
In God s garner to abide;
Come ten thousand angels come
Raise the glorious harvest home!