On the hillpaths swept by heather

1  
On the hillpaths swept by heather,
where the lark ascends in praise,
You, O Christ, reveal the Father,
shaping life through ancient days.
As in Athens Paul bore witness,
naming You the Unknown Known,
so in hawthorn’s scented blossom
we discern Your presence shown.

2  
By the rivers bright with salmon,
through the birch‑woods’ silver gleam,
You have led us, strong in mercy,
as You led Your wandering stream.
Meadow‑sweet lifts fragrant blessing
by the banks where waters pour;
so we lift our Easter voices,
telling love for ever sure.

3  
When we suffer for Your kindness,
teach our spirits not to fear;
shape our words with gentle courage,
make Your risen hope appear.
As the ark bore life through waters,
Christ, You rose to set us free;
now Your Church, in baptism’s river,
walks with seals beside the sea.

4  
“Not as orphans” — this Your promise,
spoken on that night of grace;
Spirit, stay beside Your people,
breathing peace in every place.
In the gorse‑gold of the springtime,
in the pine‑marten’s swift roam,
let Your love, alive within us,
be our strength, our fire, our home.

Hymn information

First line: On the hillpaths swept by heather
Text: Michael McFarland Campbell
Metre: 87 87 D
Tune: Ebenezer or Blaenwern
Theme: Easter 6, Creation,

Reflection

The Sensory Key: Gentle Courage and the Seal’s Path

As we approach the Sixth Sunday of Easter, our liturgy turns toward the promise of the Advocate—the Spirit who stays. In my latest hymn, On the hillpaths swept by heather, I wanted to explore what it means to be “not as orphans” in a world that often feels sensory-aggressive and socially confusing.

Nowhere is this more pointed than in Stanza 3, where we pivot from the blooming landscape into the grit of the human experience.

Stanza 3: The Text

When we suffer for Your kindness, 
teach our spirits not to fear; 
shape our words with gentle courage, 
make Your risen hope appear. 
As the ark bore life through waters, 
Christ, You rose to set us free; 
now Your Church, in baptism’s river, 
walks with seals beside the sea.

The “Gentle Courage” of Authenticity

For many in the neurodivergent community, “suffering for kindness” isn’t about grand martyrdom. It’s the daily friction of being “too much” or “not enough.” It’s the exhaustion that comes from being authentically yourself—kind, literal, and honest—in a world that often prefers the “polite” mask.

I chose the phrase “gentle courage” because, for us, bravery is often a low-decibel affair. It is the courage to keep one’s spirit soft when the world is hard. It is the courage to “shape our words” carefully, navigating the gap between our internal “Unknown Known” and the external “Expected.”

The Ark as a Sensory Boundary

The mention of the Ark (from the 1 Peter reading) serves as a powerful sensory metaphor. Imagine the Ark not just as a boat, but as a contained, safe space amidst the chaos of the deep.

• The Waters: Represent the overwhelming sensory input of life—the noise, the expectations, the “flooding” of the nervous system.
• The Ark: Represents the structure of our faith and our self-care. It is the boundary that holds life safely while the storm rages outside.

The Sensory Anchor: Seals beside the Sea

The stanza ends with a very specific Irish image: “walks with seals beside the sea.” There is a profound “sensory key” here. If you’ve ever sat on a cold, Atlantic beach in Donegal or on the Irish Sea in Wicklow and watched seals, you know their energy. They are grounded, sturdy, and perfectly adapted to two different worlds (land and water).

For the neurodivergent worshipper, the “seal” is a kindred spirit. We, too, often feel like we are living between two elements—the internal world of deep, focused thought and the external “watery” world of social navigation. To walk “with seals” is to recognize that we aren’t alone in our “different” way of being. We are “sealed” by the Spirit, yes, but we are also grounded in the physical reality of a Creator who made the pine-marten, the salmon, and us.

Reflection for the Sixth Sunday

As you sing this (ideally to the rolling, sturdy waves of EBENEZER or the soaring hope of BLAENWERN), I invite you to find your own “gentle courage.”

Don’t look for the Risen Christ in the abstract. Look for Him in the salt air, the cold water, and the steady breath of the creature on the shoreline. You are not an orphan; you are a part of the landscape.

A Note on the Tune

I personally hear this stanza best through EBENEZER. The minor key acknowledges the “suffering” and the “waters,” making the transition to the “Easter voices” in the previous stanzas feel like a true, grounded relief.

How does the image of the “Ark” or the “Seal” resonate with your own sensory experience of faith?

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.

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