Hymns | Remembrance Sunday | DCM

Across the dark and rolling hills
By Shannon's winding way,
We keep our watch in gratefulness
Upon Remembrance Day.
From Antrim's glens and Donegal,
From Cork's far ocean strand,
They answered duty's solemn call
And served at its command.

2.
Some crossed the seas beneath the Crown,
In distant fields of war;
Some wore as well the Irish green
And served on foreign shore.
Through mud and wire, through storm and fire,
Through fear and grief endured,
They held the line for friend and home,
Their courage strong and sure.

3.
The lark still sings above the bog,
The curlew calls at dawn;
Yet many who once heard those sounds
Are now forever gone. 
Their names are carried by the wind
Across the heathered height,
By Mourne and Slieve Bloom, Burren stone,
And lakes that catch the light.

4.
Through drifting mist on silent hills,
Where ancient crosses stand,
We give their names to God in prayer,
And place them in His hand. 
O Christ, receive the fallen now,
And heal the scars of strife;
Bring comfort to the mourning heart,
And mercy out of life.

5.
Grant wisdom where divisions lie,
And peace where memories stay,
Till every people, every land
Walk in Your gentler way.
Then, standing in this island's grace,
By sea and field and sod,
We honour all who served with faith,
And commend them all to God.

Reflection

Standing in a Church of Ireland parish church in the Republic of Ireland on Remembrance Sunday is occupying a space where history, faith, and memory quietly intersect. For me that intersection is not an abstract historical concept; it is the lived geography of my life.

I was born and shaped by the hills of County Antrim, but my home is now here, in the Republic. Crossing that border does not erase where you come from, nor does it diminish your commitment to where you now live. Instead, it teaches you to hold two worlds in the same heart—a quiet, daily reminder that identity on this island has never fit neatly into single labels or tidy borders.

For much of the twentieth century, the modern Irish state struggled to accommodate the memory of those who served beneath the Crown. In the urgent forge of nation-building after independence, public memory often demanded undivided loyalties. Tens of thousands of Irishmen answered duty’s call in the mud of Flanders or the heat of Gallipoli, only to return to a changed homeland where silence, awkwardness, or suspicion met their service. For decades, it was difficult for many to see how a person could love this island while having worn the uniform of a monarch across the water.

Yet on Remembrance Sunday, as I pin the eight-pointed cross of a Member of the Order of St John (MStJ) to my breast, that historic tension resolves into something far simpler and more human.

No longer do I wear a uniform. The honour was awarded not for parade-ground visibility, but for years of quiet, back-room service with St John Ambulance Ireland—the logistics, the administration, the unseen planning, the social media, and the steady work behind the scenes that keeps the organisation running so others can care for the public at events and teach First Aid. It is a royal honour, carrying the link to the Crown, yet earned in the service of an independent Irish civic charity, supporting volunteers on Irish streets and sports grounds.

One of the Order of St John’s mottoes is Pro Utilitate Hominum—”For the Service of Humanity.” It is a fitting compass for Remembrance. It reminds us that faithful service rarely concerns itself with constitutional disputes or political flags. Whether organizing supplies in an ambulance depot, tending a casualty on the street, or holding the line in a rain-soaked trench a century ago, duty is ultimately about serving the neighbour before you.

Standing in the quiet grace of a parish church, surrounded by the memorial brasses that record the names of the fallen from our own local communities, holding Crown and Ireland together is not about striking political balances. It is about historical generosity, honest memory, and Christian grace. A confident, mature Republic has ample room for northern roots, southern homes, quiet back-room devotion, and a Remembrance that leaves all our varied traditions and sacrifices in the hands of God.

Hymn information

First line: Across the dark and rolling hills
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: DCM
Tune: Kingsfold, Resignation
Theme: Remembrance Sunday, Military Service
NDH-0378

© Michael McFarland Campbell. 2026.
Permission granted for local church or parish use with attribution. Not for commercial reproduction.