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经典诗歌(感恩节) | Come, ye thankful people, come

Come, ye thankful people, come

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 doth 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 as praise to God we yield; wheat and tares together sown are to 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 the garner evermore.

4 Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring thy final harvest home; gather thou thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin, there, forever purified, in thy presence to abide; come, with all thine angels, come, raise the glorious harvest home.


Make a joyful noise to Jehovah, all the earth.

Serve Jehovah with rejoicing; Come before His presence with joyful singing.

Know that it is Jehovah who is God; It is He who has made us and not we ourselves. We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving, His courts with praise; Give thanks to Him; bless His name.

For Jehovah is good; His lovingkindness is forever, And His faithfulness is to all generations.


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