tares to cast; But the fruitful ears to store In the garner evermore. 4. Then, thou Church triumphant come, Raise the song of harvest home! All be safely gathered in, Free from sorrow, free from sin, There, forever purified, In God's garner to abide; Come, ten thousand angels, come, Raise the glorious harvest home! Hymns Ancient & Modern 2. 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. 3. 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. 4. Come then, Lord of mercy, come, Bid us sing thy harvest-home: Let thy saints be gathered 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. Music References External links Recording from Hymnswithoutwords.com English Christian hymns Thanksgiving songs 1844 songs 19th-century hymns