Praise Him that He gave the rain
To mature the swelling grain;
For His mercies still endure
Ever faithful, ever sure.
And hath bid the fruitful field
Crops of precious increase yield ;
For His mercies still endure
Ever faithful, ever sure.
Praise Him for our harvest-store,
He hath fill'd the garner-floor;
For His mercies still endure
Ever faithful, ever sure.
And for richer Food than this,
Pledge of everlasting bliss;
For His mercies still endure
Ever faithful, ever sure.
Glory to our bounteous King;
Glory let creation sing;
Glory to the FATHER, SON,
And Blest SPIRIT, THREE in ONE.
514 They joy before thee according to the joy in harvest.
COME, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of Harvest-home :
All is safely gather'd 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.
All this world is God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares therein are sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown;
Ripening with a wondrous power
Till the final Harvest-hour:
Grant, O LORD of life, that we
Holy grain and pure may be.
For we know that Thou wilt come,
And wilt take Thy people home;
From Thy field wilt purge away
All that doth offend, that day;
And Thine Angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast,
But the fruitful ears to store
In Thy garner evermore.
Come then, LORD of mercy, come,
Bid us sing Thy Harvest-home :
Let Thy Saints be gather'd in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
All upon the golden floor
Praising Thee for evermore:
Come, with all Thine Angels come;
Bid us sing Thy Harvest-home. Amen.
Thou crownest the year with thy goodness.
10
To Thee, O LORD, our hearts we raise
In hymns of adoration,
To Thee bring sacrifice of praise
With shouts of exultation;
Bright robes of gold the fields adorn,
The hills with joy are ringing,
The valleys stand so thick with corn
That even they are singing.
And now, on this our festal day,
Thy bounteous hand confessing,
Upon Thine altar, LORD, we lay
The first-fruits of Thy blessing;
By Thee the souls of men are fed
With gifts of grace supernal;
Thou Who dost give us earthly bread,
Give us the Bread eternal.
We bear the burden of the day,
And often toil seems dreary;
But labour ends with sunset ray,
And rest comes for the weary;
May we, the Angel-reaping o'er,
Stand at the last accepted,
CHRIST'S golden sheaves for evermore
To garners bright elected.
Oh, blessed is that land of God,
Where Saints abide for ever;
Where golden fields spread far and broad,
Where flows the crystal river:
The strains of all its holy throng
With ours to-day are blending;
Thrice blessed is that harvest-song
Which never hath an ending. Amen.
516 The harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers
ORD of the harvest, once again
We thank Thee for the ripen'd grain ;
For crops safe carried, sent to cheer
Thy servants through another year;
For all sweet holy thoughts supplied
By seed-time, and by harvest-tide.
The bare dead grain, in autumn sown,
Its robe of vernal green puts on;
Glad from its wintry grave it springs,
Fresh garnish'd by the King of kings:
So, LORD, to those who sleep in Thee
Shall new and glorious bodies be.
Nor vainly of Thy word we ask
A lesson from the reaper's task:
So shall Thine Angels issue forth;
The tares be burnt; the just of earth,
To wind and storm exposed no more,
Be gather'd to their FATHER's store.
Daily, O LORD, our prayers be said,
As Thou hast taught, for daily bread ;
But not alone our bodies feed,
Supply our fainting spirits' need:
O Bread of life, from day to day,
Be Thou their comfort, food, and stay.
The following Hymns are also suitable: 324 Let all the world rejoice.
326 O worship the King.
333 For the beauty of the earth.
400 O praise our great and gracious LORD.
407 Praise to the LORD, the Almighty.
506 Now thank we all our GOD.
517 Thou that hearest the prayer; unto thee shall all flesh come.
GREAT King of nations, hear our prayer, at Thy feet we fall,
And humbly with united cry
To Thee for mercy call;
The guilt is ours, but grace is Thine,
O turn us not away;
But hear us from Thy lofty throne
And help us when we pray.
Our fathers' sins were manifold,
And ours no less we own,
Yet wondrously from age to age
Thy goodness hath been shown;
When dangers, like a stormy sea,
Beset our country round,
To Thee we look'd, to Thee we cried,
And help in Thee was found.
With one consent we meekly bow
Beneath Thy chastening hand,
And, pouring forth confession meet,
Mourn with our mourning land;
With pitying eye behold our need,
As thus we lift our prayer;
Correct us with Thy judgments, LORD,
Then let Thy mercy spare. Amen.
Arise, O God, maintain thine own cause.
LET GOD arise to lead forth those
Who march to war!
Let GoD arise, and all His foes
Be scatter'd far!
So Israel pray'd, and Thou, O LORD,
Wast with him then :
Be with us now, who draw the sword
For war again.
Grant Thou our soldiers courage high
When foes are near,
To strive, to suffer, or to die,
Untouch'd by fear.
Grant strength to those, who mourn to-day
Their loved ones lost,-
Yea, those who give their best, nor stay
To count the cost.
Fight Thou for us, that we may fill
Thy courts with praise;
Then teach us mercy, teach us still
The fall'n to raise.
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