[Verse 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
[Verse 2]
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
[Verse 3]
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
[Verse 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 garner to abide;
Come, with all Thine angels come
Raise the glorious harvest home