NeuroDivine

Through Cornwall’s cliffs, where breakers roar

1
Through Cornwall’s cliffs, where breakers roar 
and miners sought the tin,
St Joseph walked the western paths
where ancient trade came in;
The chough flew bright above the rocks, 
the seal rose from the foam,
As Joseph carried Christ’s good news 
far from his desert home.

2
Along the lanes where pack‑mules trod 
and traders crossed the land,
He shared the hope of Christ the Lord
with every listening hand;
On Bodmin’s moor the wild hare paused,
the buzzard wheeled on high,
While Joseph told of cross and tomb 
beneath the open sky.

3
Then Glastonb”ry’s green‑folded hills 
received his pilgrim tread;
He planted staff beside the thorn
where holy stories spread.
The blackbird sang along his path, 
the red fox watched him pass;
The spring ran clear with living joy 
that bubbled through the grass.

4
He shared the love that breaks the grave, 
the peace no fear can bind;
And Avalon’s deep‑misted vale
held all he left behind.
So teach us, Joseph, how to trust 
the work God calls us to,
To sow the gospel in our land 
with hearts made brave and true.

5
And may our lives, like Glaston thorn, 
bear witness year by year
That Christ is risen, Christ is Lord, 
and walks beside us here;
From Cornwall’s coast to Somerset,
from moorland, hedge, and hill,
May all creation join the song 
of Christ who loves us still.

Hymn information

First line: Through Cornwall’s cliffs, where breakers road
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell 
Metre: DCM
Tune: Kingsfold
Theme: St Joseph of Arimathea, Glastonbury, Cornwall

Reflection

A Change of Shores

Now and again, a hymn starts not in familiar fields of home but at someone else’s request. This one came that way.

Most of my writing is instinctive, guided toward Ireland—its rivers, hedgerows, saints, and quiet places of prayer. But a friend asked for something different: a hymn shaped by the stories of St Joseph of Arimathea, and by the landscapes of Cornwall and Glastonbury that carry his memory.

It meant stepping, gently, beyond the Barrow and the Shannon, and learning to listen to another place: cliffs where choughs fly, moorland paths under wide skies, and that curious meeting of history and legend around Glastonbury.

Yet, the landscape of Cornwall, of the South West of England, is a familiar place. I spent many of my teenage summers there. Christ’s gospel does not solely belong to the Irish. His Good News is told and retold wherever those who have heard it travel, be that a teenager in Calstock, or an ancient metal trader along Cornish trade routes. 

Thank you to Gwen for asking if I had written about St Joseph. Her prompt has brought me somewhere old and somewhere new all at once. 

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. 

Visio Divina
This hymn is accompanied by a visual meditation. To view the curated AI-generated image for this piece, visit its companion page at Received Light.