Liedtext & Strophen
4 Abschnitte
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; Give His 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 To 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.
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