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.