A new hymn in common metre and reflection for St Peter’s Day.

O Christ Who called the fisherman

1
O Christ Who called the fisherman
Beside the western sea,
You shaped his heart with wind and flame
And made his spirit free.

2
He walked the waters at Your word,
Though storms rose fierce and wild;
So guide our feet on shifting waves
With faith both brave and mild.

3
On rocky shores of ancient isles
Your steadfast truth he named;
May we speak hope in quiet fields
Where Celtic fires once flamed.

4
Where oak and ash and thorn still guard
The paths our kin have trod,
Teach us, like Peter, how to stand
With courage born of God.

5
For those who hear Your call today
And kneel in trust and fear,
Anoint their hands with Peter’s grace
And keep their hearts sincere.

6
And when our strength grows thin and small,
As his once failed in fear,
Restore us with Your healing light
And draw our spirits near.

7
O Christ, the Harbour of our souls,
The Tide that never ends,
Make us, like Peter, stones of grace—
Your Church that lives and bends.

The Bending Church: A Reflection for St Peter’s Day

Today, on the Feast of St Peter, I am watching a quiet but powerful wave of celebration ripple through my community of friends. In the tradition of the Church, Petertide is a season of thresholds. Today, many of my friends are celebrating the anniversaries of their ordination—some looking back on decades of faithful service, others remembering the fresh awe of recent years. Alongside them, another dear friend steps forward this evening to be commissioned as a Diocesan Reader, kneeling in that raw, courageous space where a new ministry begins.

For me, it is a day of deep thresholds, bridging a beautiful spectrum of beginnings, milestones, and lifelong devotion.

In the hymn I shared today, I wrote of a Christ who calls us “beside the western sea,” shaping hearts with “wind and flame.” This is the essence of Peter’s story—and it is a story that resonates profoundly with my own neurodivergent soul. Peter was not a man of rigid lines, predictable patterns, or quiet conformity. He was intense, fiercely passionate, easily overwhelmed by the storm, and prone to stumbling under pressure. Yet, Christ did not demand he become someone else; He shaped Peter’s specific, fiery heart to become a foundational rock.

For those of us whose minds and spirits don’t always fit the standard, unyielding molds of traditional institutions, Peter is a patron of hope. He reminds me that grace doesn’t flatten our unique wiring; it enlivens it.

The heart of today’s reflection lies in the final lines of the hymn, where I pray for:

Your Church that lives and bends.

A Church that bends is a Church that behaves like the ancient oak, ash, and thorn of the Celtic landscape. It doesn’t break under the weight of human frailty, nor does it snap when faced with difference. It adapts. It holds space for the collective wisdom of those marking years of ministry who know exactly how thin and small human strength can grow, and it holds space for the new Reader stepping out of the boat in trust and fear tonight.

Whether you are celebrating an anniversary of ordination today, beginning a brand-new chapter of public ministry, or simply trying to find a way to stand with “courage born of God” in your day-to-day life—Christ remains the Harbour.

To all my friends who have answered the call, at every stage of the journey: may your hands be anointed with grace, your hearts kept sincere, and your spirits made free. Happy St Peter’s Day.

Hymn information

First line: O Christ Who called the fisherman 
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: CM
Tune: St Peter
Scripture: Exodus 40:15; Matthew 4:18–20; 14:22–33; 16:15–18; Mark 1:16–18; Luke 5:1–11; 22:54–62; John 21:1–19; Acts 2; 4:8–13; 1 Peter 2:4–5.

© 2026 Michael McFarland Campbell. Permission granted for local church use with attribution. Not for commercial reproduction without permission.