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COME YOU THANKFUL PEOPLE COME

Come, you thankful people, come,

raise the song of harvest home;

all is safely gathered in,

'fore the winter storms begin.

God our Maker does provide

for our wants to be supplied;

come to God's own temple, come,

raise the song of harvest home.

Henry Alford (1810–1871)

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COME YOU THANKFUL PEOPLE COME

All the world is God's own field,

fruit as 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.

Henry Alford (1810–1871)

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COME YOU THANKFUL PEOPLE COME

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 evermore.

Henry Alford (1810–1871)

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COME YOU THANKFUL PEOPLE COME

Even so, Lord, quickly come,

bring Your final harvest home;

gather all Your people in,

free from sorrow, free from sin,

there, forever purified,

in Your presence to abide;

Come, with all Your angels, come,

raise the glorious harvest home.

Henry Alford (1810–1871)

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