Come Ye Thankful People, Come

Psalm 95:2; Matthew 13:24-30,36-43; Revelation 22:20

Henry Alford

F                 Dm  C   F
Come, ye thankful people, come,
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Raise the song of harvest home;
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All is safely gathered in,
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Ere the winter storms begin;
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God our Maker doth provide
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For our wants to be supplied;
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Come to God’s own temple, come,
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Raise the song of harvest home.

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All the world is God’s own field,
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Fruit unto His praise to yield;
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Wheat and tares together sown,
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Unto joy or sorrow grown;
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First the blade, and then the ear,
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Then the full corn shall appear:
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Lord of harvest, grant that we
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Wholesome grain and pure may be.

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

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Even so, Lord, quickly come,
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Bring Thy final harvest home;
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Gather Thou Thy people in,
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Free from sorrow, free from sin,
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There, forever purified,
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In Thy garner to abide;
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Come, with all Thine angels come,
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Raise the glorious harvest home.