Amid football, parades, sales, Santa, and all the other distractions of the day, let’s actually take time to give thanks to God for the blessings of our lives.
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 s 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.
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 ever-more.
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 they presence to abide;
Come, with all thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.
- George J. Elvey 1858
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