COME, YE THANKFUL PEOPLE, COME

TEXT: Henry Alford, 1810 - 1871
MUSIC: George J. Elvey, 1816 – 1893
TUNE: ST GEORGE’S WINDSOR
METER: 77 77 D (Doubled)

Richard Niell Donovan writes the following on the website Lectionary.org .

“This is a traditional harvest song that we associate with Thanksgiving Day. It speaks of things unfamiliar to most city dwellers today –– the harvest "safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin." Anyone who has ever lived in a farming community knows the urgency associated with the harvest. The fruit of a whole year's work hang on the harvest, which cannot be accomplished until the crop is ready and which must be accomplished quickly then lest it be spoiled by pests or weather. During the busy harvest season, farmers literally work day and night to get the job done. Only after the harvest is there time to relax and celebrate.

But even if we aren't farmers, we can appreciate the urgency of deadlines –– the joy of an important job well done –– the relief of a respite after a busy time at work.

This hymn was written by Henry Alford, a 19th century Anglican clergyman. Alford was quite a remarkable person. At age six, he wrote a biography of the Apostle Paul. At age ten, he wrote a pamphlet entitled, "Looking Unto Jesus the Believers' Support Under Trials and Afflictions." At age 16, he committed his life to Christian service, and served nearly half a century as an Anglican clergyman. For the last 14 years of his life, he served as dean of the Canterbury Cathedral.

Alford wrote 48 books –– the most important being a four-volume commentary on the Greek New Testament. He wrote several hymns, but this is only one that is widely sung today.”


In 1844, this hymn was published for the first time under the title “After the Harvest.” It originally contained the text from Psalm 126:6, “He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”



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, does provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come,
Raise the song of harvest home.

2. All the world is God’s own field,
Fruit unto God’s 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:
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

3. 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 God’s garner evermore.

4. Even so, Lord, quickly come
To your final harvest home;
Gather all your people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There, for ever purified,
In your presence to abide:
Come, with all your angels, come,
Raise the glorious harvest home.