I am not very original when it comes to holidays. I like my holidays traditional. I like to sing Come Ye Thankful People Come, We Gather Together and Now Thank We All Our God in the days prior to Thanksgiving. I get dreadfully disappointed at church if we sing the same old songs and hymns during the holidays. Even in music it is good to rest from the usual fare and sings something different. But I hate singing unknown songs at church unless we plan on actually learning the song or hymn. It is hard to worship when you are straining to learn the tune and words at the same time.

That is one of my big beefs with Reformed worship and maybe why Psalm singing is a good idea. Sometimes we try so hard to pick out meaty words we don’t have a clue how to sing the song.

Still I like my old hymns.

So today I am thankful for hymns.

For When I Survey sung to the tune of The Water is Wide.
For When I Survey sung to the traditional tune.
For Rock of Ages from a hymnbook smart enough to leave the words alone.
For Be Thou My Vision and Immortal, Invisible.
For A Mighty Fortress and Come Thou Fount.
For All Glory, Laud and Honor and O, Thou In Whose Presence.
For All Creatures of our God and King and O, God Beyond all Praising.
For Whiter Than Snow and The Church’s One Foundation.
For O, Sacred Head and Be Still My Soul.
For And Can It Be and How Firm a Foundation.
For May The Mind of Christ My Saviour and It Is Well With My Soul.
For Great Is Thy Faithfulness and Beneath the Blood-Stained Lintel.
For O, The Deep, Deep Love of Jesus and My Anchor Holds.
For Hallelujah, What a Saviour and The Gloria Patri.
For Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee and God Leads His Dear Children Along.

And did I mention When I Survey?

Would you like to join me in singing 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.
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 offenses purge away,
Giving 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 Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin,
There, forever purified, in Thy garner to abide;
Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.

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