Thursday, November 26, 2015

Come, Ye Thankful People, Come

 First Grandson
1. 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. 

 Faith-filled Friends
2. 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.

 Time with daughters

3. 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. 

Meier Baby on the way

4. 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. 

Text: Henry Alford, 1810-1871
Music: George J. Elvey, 1816-1893 

Thanks be to God.

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