Monday, 13 October 2014


As it is harvest time of year, I thought that it would be nice to post a harvest hymn –

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.

All the world is 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:
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come
And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall 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.

Even so, Lord, quickly come!
Bring Thy final harvest home!
Gather all Thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There, for ever purified,
In Thy presence to abide:
Come, with all Thine angels, come,
Raise the glorious harvest-home!

Henry Alford, 1810-1871

And a poem, taken from “Echoes of Eternity” by Michael R Abbott; used with permission

The Year

Flowers appearing from the earth,
Sheep in pastures giving birth,
Birds that sing with joy and mirth,
On a bright spring morning.

People sitting on the sand,
Clutching ice creams in their hand,
Listening to the seaside band,
On a summer’s morning.

Wind dislodging leaves from trees,
Birds migrating, no more bees,
Chill winds blowing round the lees,
On an autumn morning.

Snowflakes falling on the ground,
Floating down without a sound,
Making white of all around,
On a winter’s morning.

Seasons come and pass again:
Wind and sunshine, frost and rain,
Harvests growing for our gain;
All by God provided.

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