At altar-stone Your work is shown

1
At altar‑stone Your work is shown,
The Lamb once slain now stands;
Your Paschal gift is offered still—
My times are in Your hands.

2
Where salmon climbs the river’s course,
Through cold and shining strands,
Your rising draws all life to You—
My times are in Your hands.

3
You lift the Cup of saving love,
The wine of mercy spans
From Calvary’s cross to here and now—
My times are in Your hands.

4
As living stones You set us close
Beside the ash and yew;
One Body formed around Your throne—
My times are in Your hands.

5
And when the bread is blessed and broke,
The world in need You tend;
Your sacrifice makes all things new—
My times are in Your hands. 

6.
Praise to the Father, Source of life,
Whose light on oak‑hills stands;
Praise Christ, the Fire at centre‑heart—
My times are in Your hands.

Hymn information

First line: At altar-stone Your work is shown
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: CM
Tune: St Columba or Ellacombe (2 verses per tune)

Reflection

In a world that often demands we move at a single, frantic pace, the refrain of this hymn—”My times are in Your hands”—offers a profound sense of sanctuary. For the neurodivergent soul, “time” can feel like a foreign language. It stretches during moments of deep hyper-focus and fragments during seasons of sensory overwhelm. By echoing Psalm 31, we reclaim our personal timelines from the pressure of “normalcy” and place them instead into the gentle, wounded hands of the Risen Christ.

The Beauty of the “Living Stone”

Verse 4 speaks of being set as “living stones… beside the ash and yew.” In a cathedral, no two stones are cut to the exact same dimension; it is their varied shapes that allow them to lock together to support the weight of the spire. This is a neuro-inclusive image of the Church. We are not mass-produced bricks, but “living stones”—unique, irregular, and essential. Our specific “shape”—the way we think, feel, and process the world—is exactly what the Architect uses to build a home for the Spirit.

Sensory Liturgy

The hymn moves through a rich, sensory landscape:

• The tactile: The “altar-stone” and the “ash and yew.”

• The thermal: The “cold strands” of the river and the “Fire” at the heart.

• The kinetic: The “rising” of the salmon against the current.

For those of us who experience the world with heightened sensory awareness, this hymn suggests that God is not found just in abstract concepts, but in the physicality of creation. The “wine of mercy” isn’t just a symbol; it “spans” the gap between the ancient past and our “here and now.”

Finding the Centre

The final doxology names Christ as the “Fire at centre-heart.” When the world feels chaotic or the “shining strands” of life feel too bright, we are reminded that there is a steady, burning center to all things. We are held. Our pacing, our processing, and our very presence are part of the “One Body” formed around the throne.

This Sunday, as we sing, let us celebrate that our unique “times”—be they fast, slow, or outside the box—are held with infinite tenderness by the One who makes all things new.

A Note for the Musician: Since St Columba is often sung quite breathily, encourage the congregation to lean into the “S” sounds in Verse 2 (salmon, shines, strands). It creates a soft, hushing sound that mimics the movement of water—a lovely sensory “stim” within the music itself.

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.