Hymns | Proper 28 | Year A | DCM

1
When autumn mists veil hill and lough,
And curlew calls the dawn,
We watch beside the rowan bough,
Till night's long fears are gone;
The God who guided Deborah's way,
Still lights the pilgrim road,
And kindles hope through clouded day,
Beneath creation's load.

2
The foxglove sways by quiet streams,
The blackbird lifts its song,
And through the hush of Celtic dreams,
God's Spirit moves along;
Like servants called to tend His earth,
And use each gift with care,
We nurture seeds of sacred worth,
Entrusted to our prayer.

3
Through bog and field the red deer roams,
As oak and hazel stand,
While every living creature homes
Within God's gentle hand;
No child of light need fear the night,
Nor dread the coming day,
For Christ has clothed our souls with light,
And drives the dark away.

4
The salmon turns through silver streams,
The goldcrest crowns the tree,
And Christ is known in bread once blessed,
And cup of mystery;
The treasure placed within our hearts
Must not be hid in fear,
For love requires our willing parts,
And faithful service here.

5
O God, when all our days are weighed,
And earthly tasks are done,
May gifts received be gifts repaid
In service to Your Son;
Then with the saints of Erin's shore,
And all creation blest,
We'll sing Your praise for evermore,
And in Your glory rest.

Reflection

There is a quiet grace in the way the Celtic Christian imagination refuses to draw a sharp border between the natural world and the life of the soul. In these verses, the familiar contours of the Irish landscape—the mist settling low over hill and lough, the cry of the curlew at daybreak, the silver flash of salmon in a cold stream—are not merely picturesque scenery. They are active witnesses to the Creator’s presence, inviting the worshipper to step out of the hurry of modern life and pay attention to a God who still moves through quiet streams and shadowed glens.

Yet this reverence for creation is never passive or merely romantic. As the hymn unfolds, the beauty of the earth becomes an urgent call to stewardship and courage. Alongside the red deer, the oak, and the tiny goldcrest resting in God’s gentle hand, human beings are given a distinct vocation: to tend what has been entrusted to them. Echoing the ancient story of Deborah—who judged and guided her people with wisdom beneath a palm tree—the hymn reminds us that God’s light is meant to be carried onto the pilgrim road, especially when clouds gather and creation itself groans under a heavy load.

At the heart of the hymn lies a gentle warning against the paralysis of fear. In the Gospel parable of the talents, it is fear that convinces a servant to bury his master’s silver in the ground rather than risk putting it to work. Here, we are reminded that we are “children of light,” clothed in Christ’s own radiance, with no reason to dread either the lingering night or the unknown tomorrow. The grace we receive in the simple, sacred mystery of bread and cup is never meant to be hoarded away in self-protection; it is a living treasure meant to be spent in love, prayer, and faithful service.

Ultimately, the hymn gathers all our small, earthly efforts into a vast horizon of hope. Our daily tending of the earth and of one another is held within the promise that nothing offered in love is ever wasted. Looking toward the day when every task is weighed and finished, the final stanza joins our voices with the great cloud of witnesses—the saints of Erin’s shore and all of redeemed creation—resting at last in the enduring joy and glory of God.

Hymn information

First line: When autumn mists veil hill and lough
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: DCM
Tune:
Theme: Proper 28 Year A; Judges 4:1–7; Psalm 123; 1 Thessalonians 5:1–11; Matthew 25:14–30
NDH-0383

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