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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 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 the 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,

Give his 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 presence to abide;
Come, with all thine angels, come,

Raise the glorious harvest home.





Sir George J. Elvey (1816-1893), organist at St. George's Chapel, Windsor Castle for nearly fifty years, wrote the music to the well-loved Thanksgiving hymn about 1844. The lyrics are by Henry Alford (1810-1871).
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