While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.@Genesis 8:22
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James Montgomery (1771-1854)

James Montgomery, September 1840.

The original manuscript of this hymn is dated 1840. From [John] Holland’s Memoirs of Montgomery we find that in August, 1840, the poet visited the widow of E. C. Brackenbury of Raithby Hall, Spilsby, Lincolnshire, and that on his return journey he wrote this hymn. On reaching Sheffield he gave the stanzas to Holland, saying, You may do what you like with them. Holland adds, The hint was well understood, and the author’s townsmen had the pleasure of reading his beautiful harvest hymn the next day in the Sheffield Mercury (Memoirs, vol. v. p. 407). It was also printed in the Evangelical Magazine of Nov. 1840, as A Harvest Hymn for 1840, and dated The Mount, Sheffield, Sept. 1840. Montgomery included it in his Original Hymns, 1853, No, 279, in 7 stanzas of 7 lines. It is a spirited hymn, and in an abbreviated form would be of some value.

Julian, p. 1151

Perkins Edward A. Perkins, in The Christian Hymnal (Cincinnati, Ohio: Central Book Concern, 1882), page 220 (🔊 pdf nwc).

The God of harvest praise,
In loud thanksgivings, raise
Hand, heart, and voice;
The valleys laugh and sing,
Forests and mountains ring,
The plains their tribute bring,
The streams rejoice.

Of food for man and beast,
Jehovah spreads a feast,
Above, beneath:
Ye herds and flocks, draw near,
Fowls, ye are welcome here;
His goodness crowns the year
For all that breathe.

Garden and orchard ground,
Autumnal fruits have crowned,
The vintage glows:
Here plenty pours her horn;
There the full tide of corn,
Swayed by the breath of morn,
The land o’erflows.

The wind, the rain, the sun,
Their genial work have done;
Wouldst thou be fed?
Man, to thy labor bow,
Thrust in the sickle now,
Reap where thou once didst plough,
God sends thee bread.

Thy few seeds scattered wide,
His hand hath multiplied;
Here thou may’st find
Christ’s miracle renewed;
With self-producing food,
He feeds a multitude—
He feeds mankind.

The God of harvest praise;
Hands, hearts, and voices raise
With one accord;
From field to garner throng,
Bearing your sheaves along;
And in your harvest song,
Bless ye the Lord.

Yea, bless His holy name,
And your souls’ thanks proclaim
Through all the earth:
To glory in your lot
Is comely—but be not
His benefits forgot
Amidst your mirth.