ST. GEORGE. 7s. D.

DESIRE

Come, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of Harvest Home! All is safely gathered in,

1203 Song for Harvest.

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 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!

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God our Maker doth provide For our wants to be supplied: Come to God's own temple, come, Raise the song of Harvest Home!

3 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.

GEORGE J. ELVEY.

4 Then, thou Church Triumphant, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home!
All are safely gathered in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin :

Ere the winter storms begin:

There, for ever purified,
In God's garner to abide:
Come, ten thousand angels, come,
Raise the glorious Harvest Home!

Henry Alford.

1204 The Close of the Year.
THOU who roll'st the year around,

Crowned with mercies large and free,
Rich thy gifts to us abound,

Warm our praise shall rise to thee. Kindly to our worship bow,

While our grateful thanks we tell, That, sustained by thee, we now

Bid the parting year-farewell!

2 All its numbered days are sped,
All its busy scenes are o'er,
All its joys for ever fled,

All its sorrows felt no more.
Mingled with the eternal past,

Its remembrance shall decay;
Yet to be revived at last

At the solemn judgment-day.

3 All our follies, Lord, forgive! Cleanse us from each guilty stain; Let thy grace within us live,

That we spend not years in vain. Then, when life's last eve shall come, Happy spirits, may we fly

To our everlasting home,

To our Father's house on high!

Ray Palmer.

ST. SYLVESTER. 8s, 78.

1207

Last Day of the Pear.
DAYS and moments quickly flying
Blend the living with the dead;
Soon shall we who sing be lying,
Each within our narrow bed.

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Days and moments quickly flying Blend the living with the dead; Soon shall we who sing be lying, Each within our narrow bed.

2 Soon our souls to God who gave them
Will have sped their rapid flight;
Able now by grace to save them,
Oh, that while we can we might!

After fourth verse.

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1208 Sailors.-Tune—MELITA.
ETERNAL Father! strong to save,
Whose arm doth bind the restless wave,
Who bid'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep:

Oh, hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea!

2 O Saviour! whose almighty word
The winds and waves submissive heard,
Who walkedst on the foaming deep,
And calm amid its rage did sleep:
Oh, hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea!

3 Jesus, infinite Redeemer,
Maker of this mighty frame;
Teach, oh, teach us to remember
What we are, and whence we came :--

J. B. DYKES.

4 Whence we came, and whither wending;
Soon we must through darkness go,
To inherit bliss unending,
Or eternity of woe.

Edward Caswall.

As the man dies,

3 O Sacred Spirit! who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
Who bad'st its angry tumult cease,
And gavest light and life and peace:
Oh, hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea!

4 O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;

And ever let there rise to thee

Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

William Whiting.