Come ye thankful people

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 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,
giving 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 garner to abide;
come, with all thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.