Hymns and Hymnwriters of Denmark. Aaberg Jens Christian

that his work shows crudities which no present day writer would commit, but that it should contain so much that is truly beautiful, even when measured by the standards of today.

      Kingo had the true poet’s ability to see things poetically. To him the rays of the rising sun were not only shining but “laughing on the roof” of his home. His imagery is rich and skillfully applied. Many of his hymns abound in striking similes. Their outstanding characteristic, however, is a distinctive, forceful realism. Kingo, when he chose to do so, could touch the lyre with enhancing gentleness, but he preferred the strong note and searched always for the most graphic expression, sometimes too graphic, as when he speaks of the “frothing wrath of God” and “the oozy slime of sin”. Yet it is this trait of robust reality that invests his hymns with a large part of their enduring merit. “When Kingo sings of God, one feels as though He were right there with him”, one of his commentators exclaims. Nor is that realism a mere literary pose. Like most great hymns, his best hymns are reflections of his own experiences. Kingo never attained a state of saintly serenity. Whatever peace he found was gained only through a continuous struggle with his own fiery and passionate nature. Few hymns convey a more vivid impression of a believing, struggling soul than Kingo’s.

      His morning hymns are among his best. He loved light and gloried in the birth of each new day. The sun is his favorite symbol. Its rising signifies to him the final triumph of life over death, and the new day is a token thereof. It sounds a joyful call to wake and resume life anew.

      “Awake, my soul, the sun is risen,

      Upon my roof its rays now laugh, – ”

      Every Christian should rejoice in the newborn day and thank God for it:

      Break now forth in Jesus’ name,

      Blessed morn, in all thy splendor!

      I will sweetest music render

      And thy wondrous gifts proclaim.

      All my spirit with rejoicing

      Thanks the Lord for rest and care

      And, His grace and goodness voicing,

      Wings its way to Him in prayer.

      But the commencing day also calls for consecration lest its hours be wasted and its opportunities lost:

      Grant me, Lord, that on this day

      Now with light and grace beginning,

      I shall not submit to sinning

      Nor Thy word and way betray.

      Blessed Jesus, hover ever

      Over me, my Sun and Shield,

      That I firm may stand and never

      Unto sin and Satan yield.

      And the passing hours must admonish the Christian to work while it is day and to prepare for the evening that is coming:

      Let each fleeting hour of grace

      And the chiming bells remind me

      That to earth I must not bind me

      But Thy life and gifts embrace.

      And when dawns my final morrow,

      Let me go to Thee for aye,

      Let my sin and care and sorrow

      With my dust be put away.

      Finest of all Kingo’s morning hymns is the splendid “The Sun Arises Now in Light and Glory”. This hymn presents all the finest traits of Kingo’s poetry, its vivid imagery, forceful style and robust faith. The following translation is by the Rev. P. C. Paulsen.

      The sun arises now

      In light and glory

      And gilds the rugged brow

      Of mountains hoary.

      Rejoice, my soul, and lift

      Thy voice in singing

      To God from earth below,

      Thy song with joy aglow

      And praises ringing.

      As countless as the sand

      And beyond measure,

      As wide as sea and land

      So is the treasure

      Of grace which God each day

      Anew bestoweth

      And which, like pouring rain,

      Into my soul again

      Each morning floweth.

      Preserve my soul today

      From sin and blindness;

      Surround me on my way

      With loving kindness.

      Embue my heart, O Lord,

      With joy from heaven;

      I then shall ask no more

      Than what Thou hast of yore

      In wisdom given.

      Thou knowest best my needs,

      My sighs Thou heedest,

      Thy hand Thy children leads,

      Thine own Thou feedest.

      What should I more desire,

      With Thee deciding

      The course that I must take,

      Than follow in the wake

      Where Thou art guiding.

      Evening naturally inspires a different sentiment than morning. The rising sun calls for activity, the setting sun for reflection. As the sun sets, as work ceases and the busy day merges into the quiet night the soul begins to take account of its gains and losses, its assets and liabilities. The dying day also conveys a sense of insecurity, of approaching death and the need for pardon and protection. All these sentiments, so different from the hopes and prospects of the morning, are wonderfully portrayed in Kingo’s evening hymns, as for instance:

      Vanish now all sinful dreaming,

      Let the joy from heaven streaming

      Occupy my soul and mind.

      Watch, my spirit, and prepare thee,

      Lest the cunning foe ensnare thee

      When repose hath made thee blind.

      Sleep now in God’s care appeasing.

      While the noise of day is ceasing,

      Lean upon thy Savior’s breast.

      He will guard thee through the somber

      Night and make thy final slumber

      Quiet, peaceful, happy, blest.

      In the last line with its crescendo of peace and happiness one almost sees the night merge into the final rest.

      Among his evening hymns now available in English, the following, perhaps, is the best known.

      Softly now the day is ending,

      Night o’er hill and vale descending,

      I will kneel before Thee, Lord.

      Unto Thee my thanks I render

      That Thou didst in mercy tender

      Life and peace to me accord.

      May Thy church Thy peace inherit,

      Guide our leaders by Thy spirit,

      Grant our country strength and peace.

      To the straying, sad and dreary,

      To each Christian faint or weary

      Grant Thou solace and surcease.

      Keep me, Jesus, while I slumber!

      From my perils without number,

      Shield me, Master,