1 Come, ye thankful people, come,
raise a song of harvest home;
fruit and crops are gathered in,
safe before the storms begin;
God, our Maker, will provide
for our needs to be supplied;
come to God's own temple, come,
raise a song of harvest home.

2 All the world is but a field,
given for a fruitful yield;
wheat and tares together sown,
here for joy or sorrow grown;
first the blade, and then the ear,
then the full corn shall appear;
God of harvest, grant that we
wholesome grain and pure may be.