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 weeds together sewn
Are to joy or sorrow grown

First the blade and then the ear
Then the full crop shall appear
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Whole-some grain and pure may be

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



Credits
Writer(s): Leigh Nash
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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