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.
2.All the blessings of the field,
al the stores the gardens yield;
all the fruits in full supply,
ripened 'neath the summer sky;
all that spring with bo9uneous hand
scatters o'er the smiling land;
all that liberal autumn pours
from her rich o'er-flowing stores:
3 These to thee, our God, we owe,
source whence all our blessings flow;
and for these our souls shall raise
grateful vows and solemn praise.
Come, then, thankful people, come,
raise the song of harvest home;
come to God's own temple, come,
raise the song of harvest home. Amen.
