Make your own free website on Tripod.com




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), wrote the
music to this Thanksgiving hymn about 1844.

The lyrics are by Henry Alford (1810-1871)





Wishing you and your loved ones
Thanksgiving Blessings..








< img src="http://guestworld.lycos.com/Guest Worldbutton .gif" height="31" width="87" border ="0" alt="Guestbook by GuestWorld">




Jnor
1999