Come, Ye Thankful People, Come - Leigh Nash

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 His harvest home

From His 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 His 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 garner to abide

Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home