143.

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!

We ourselves are 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:
Grant, O harvest Lord, that we
Wholesome grain and pure may

be.

For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take His harvest home;
From His kingdom in that day
All offences 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.

Then, thou Church triumphant, come,

Raise the song of Harvest-Home!

All are safely gather'd in,

Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There, for ever purified,

In God's garner to abide :

Come, ten thousand Angels, come,
Raise the glorious Harvest-Home!

THI

We build the temple, Lord, to Thee:

Thine eye be open night and day

To guard this house and sanctuary.
Here, when Thy people seek Thy face,
And dying sinners pray to live,

Hear Thou, in heaven, Thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, O forgive!
Here, when Thy messengers proclaim
The blessed Gospel of Thy Son,
Still by the power of His great Name
Be mighty signs and wonders done.
That glory never hence depart!

Yet choose not, Lord, this house alone;
Thy kingdom come to every heart,
In every bosom fix Thy Throne.

men.