Hymns | All Hallows’ Even | DCM | 31 October

On holy hills where fires once burned

God, when the autumn shadows stretch
Across the fading land,
We walk by faith through mist and dusk,
Held fast within Your hand.

On holy hills where fires once burned
Against the gathering night,
Your saints proclaimed the risen Christ,
The world's enduring light.

2.
The rowan gleams with scarlet fruit,
The hawthorn stands apart;
Their signs recall Your guarding grace,
Your cross in every heart.

On holy hills where fires once burned…

3.
Where foxes tread the darkened fields
And badgers roam unseen,
Your Spirit moves through earth and sky,
Through all that lies between.

On holy hills where fires once burned…

4.
The goldcrest wears its crown of gold,
The bittern calls unseen;
They speak of saints and mysteries
In lands that lie between.

On holy hills where fires once burned…

5.
Though mists may veil the distant shore
Beyond our mortal sight,
The cloud of witnesses abides
In glory's dawning light.

On holy hills where fires once burned…

6.
So keep us, God, this hallowed eve,
When dark and light appear;
Until all fear is lost in love,
And heaven's song draws near.

On holy hills where fires once burned
Against the gathering night,
Your saints proclaimed the risen Christ,
The world's enduring light.

Reflection

Across Ireland, ancient hilltops carry memories. Some were crowned with ringforts, some with monasteries, some with the great seasonal fires that marked the turning of the year. On All Hallows’ Even, I find myself drawn to the image that forms the refrain of this hymn:

“On holy hills where fires once burned
Against the gathering night…”

Those fires were visible across the landscape, small points of light connected across darkness. They seem to me a fitting image for the communion of saints. The saints are not distant stars in an unreachable heaven. They are lights that continue to shine, reminding us that Christ is present even when the shadows lengthen.

The old Celtic tradition often speaks of “thin places”, locations where heaven and earth seem especially close. Yet All Hallows’ Even feels like a thin time. The veil grows thin, not because the world becomes haunted, but because we pay closer attention. We notice the rowan bright in the hedgerow. We see mist settling over bog and field. We hear the rustle of a fox in the grass or glimpse a badger emerging at dusk.

For many neurodivergent people, such moments matter. We can find ourselves noticing patterns, transitions, sounds, and textures that others overlook. The movement from autumn towards winter is not simply a date on a calendar. It is something felt in the body, seen in the changing landscape, heard in the calls of birds and the silence that follows.

The hymn’s refrain returns again and again to the hilltop fire because that is what memory does. We come back to the same truths from different directions. Christ is the light that endures. The saints bear witness to that light. And we, walking through our own season of dusk and mystery, are invited to carry that light forward.

When the veil grows thin, we do not need to be afraid of what lies beyond it. We need only to look towards the fire on the hill, and remember that the world’s enduring light is Christ.

A Service of Light and Stillness for All Hallows’ Eve

This hymn also forms the basis of On Holy Hills Where Fires Once Burned, a complete 60-minute service of prayer and quiet reflection for All Hallows’ Eve (31 October).

Designed as a peaceful alternative to the bustle of Hallowe’en, the service combines the hymn with short meditations, periods of silence, and prayers, gathered around a single candle representing the Light of Christ.

The order of service is freely available to download, print, photocopy, and use for parish worship, small groups, or personal devotion.

Download the All Hallows’ Eve Service from the NeuroDivine Resources page

Hymn information

First line: God, when the autumn shadows stretch
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: CM
Tune: Kilmarnock, Bangor, Kingsfold,
Theme: All Hallows’ Eve (31 October)
NDH-362

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