NeuroDivine

We sing of George, whose courage shone

1  
We sing of George, whose courage shone
with quiet, steadfast grace;
whose witness, like the rising dawn,
still warms this sacred space.
Here in the city’s beating heart,
where crowds and stories blend,
his patron care invites each one—
a stranger meets a friend.

2  
He saw God’s image in each face
that crossed his path or door;
and so this church, by gift and grace,
stands open evermore.
Where gulls cry out above the quay
and footsteps ebb and flow,
his spirit shapes a ministry
that welcomes all who go.

3  
He knew the Christ who meets us still
in bread and wine outpoured;
whose presence on the altar fills
the hungry with the Lord.
As foxes slip through evening light
and pigeons flock and feed,
so Christ draws near in daily things
to meet our deepest need.

4  
He walked with those whose hearts were worn,
whose hope was bruised or frail;
he held their stories, griefs, and dreams,
and shared the Gospel’s tale.
So may this parish, in his name,
bring comfort, strength, and care;
a thin place where the lost are found,
and burdens eased in prayer.

5  
Till Belfast’s stones in chorus ring
with justice, brave and kind;
and all who cross Saint George’s door
find rest and peace of mind.
Then, gathered at Christ’s altar here,
with saints in every age,
we’ll join the song of love made real
through George, God’s faithful page.

Hymn information

First line: We sing of George, whose courage shone
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: DCM
Tune: Ellacombe or Kingsfold
Theme: St George the Martyr, St George’s Parish Belfast, Eucharist, Pastoral Care

Reflection

A Lunchtime Return to St George’s

At lunchtime, I walked into St George Parish Church but, half‑expecting only silence in the quiet of the nave, as I opened the doors to see it. I found, instead, the Walsingham Cell assembled for its monthly gathering—a group of well-recognized faces, prayers rising like incense, that sense of welcoming home hanging there for all to see. It has been years since I last sat with them, yet the rhythm of the group felt the same: gentle, prayerful and founded in devotion and camaraderie. Yes, many of the faces had changed, many of the faithful few from years ago have gone to their heavenly reward, but there were stil faces I knew.

St George’s has something about its memory that remains different. The stones appear to know you. The light pouring through the windows hits home in a very particular way, it is like it is saying, “I recognise you, you’ve been here before: you still belong here.” I stayed for the Eucharist and afterwards, went with them to the Sunday School rom for lunch. once there, it seemed like no time had passed.

After our conversations—the ones that tend to mix faith, parish life and the small graces of the day—there was a suggestion that I might like to write a hymn for the parish. You see, I had been sharing some of my other hynns while there, and it just rolled from there. There is something compelling about writing for a place where you were made, a place whose doors can open into the city centre and where its ministry is woven through the fabric of life in Belfast.

St George’s has often been a threshold church, a sanctuary for the rushing, the searching, the exhausted, the inquisitive. A place for faithful Eucharist offering, where pastoral care is not some abstract ideal but the very reality of daily life. A hymn written for such a parish is not only to form words; it is also to honour a community that welcomes men and women into the church, just as St George himself is remembered for courage, compassion and unflagging witness.

Leaving the church and then back into the bustle of the city, this continued to grow. Perhaps this hymn could stitch together the threads of Belfast’s streets, the Celtic sense of Christ in all things, the parish’s ministry of welcome, the quiet courage of its patron saint. Maybe it’s just a small expression (giving gratitude) — meaning that even now it’s years away the story of this place is still the story I bring with me in life. The writing began to take shape.

Dedication

Dedicated with gratitude to the Rev. Brian Stewart, in Thanksgiving for his faithful ministry and pastoral care within the heart of this city.

Copyright

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

Written recently and shared here as part of the NeuroDivine hymn collection. 

VisioDivina

A companion image for this hymn may be viewed at Received Light.

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