Come Ye Thankful People Come...

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 as praise to God we yield; 

wheat and tares together sown 

are to 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 the field shall in that day 

all offenses purge away, 

giving 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,

bring 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.

Have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving everyone!