Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Harvest Hymn
Anglican vicar Henry Alford wrote the original lyrics to the Harvest hymn Come Ye Thankful People Come in 1844; it's generally sung to George Job Elvey's tune, St. George, Windsor. You can hear it here in Steeleye Span's version from their 1980 album, Sails of Silver. (The song Marigold comes first; the first verse of "Harvest Home" comes at the end.)
Here's our version of this Harvest classic, as we've sung it at our Harvest Supper every year for the last 38 years now. High Anglican diction and heavy-handed imagery notwithstanding, it still chokes me up every time.
Come Ye Thankful People Come
Come ye thankful people, come:
raise the song of Harvest Home.
All is safely gathered in
ere the winter storms begin.
Earth our Mother doth provide
for our wants to be supplied.
Come ye thankful people, come:
raise the song of Harvest Home.
Earth our Mother is the field:
we the fruit her womb doth yield;
we the seed the Sun hath sown,
unto joy and sorrow grown.
First the blade, and then the ear,
then the full corn doth appear:
bless us, Mother, then, that we
wholesome, golden grain may be.
When our day of life is done,
she will take her harvest home:
gather all her children in
so that new life may begin.
And when we have planted been,
then we shall spring up again:
Queen of Harvest, grant that we
may return eternally.
Come ye thankful people, come:
raise the song of Harvest Home.
All is safely gathered in
ere the winter storms begin.
Earth our Mother doth provide
for our wants to be supplied.
Come to her own temple, come:
raise the song of Harvest Home.
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This is so very lovely. Thanks so much for sharing. I do enjoy your columns, Blessed Be, Tasha