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, in Thy might,

That, released from sin and sorrow,

I may sing this song tomorrow:

Jesus was my Sun this night.

The publication of these hymns firmly established Kingo’s reputation as the foremost poet of his country. Expressions of appreciation poured in upon him from high and low. The king, to whom the hymns were dedicated, so greatly appreciated the gift that, only three years later, he called their otherwise obscure author to become bishop of Fyn, one of the largest and most important dioceses

of the country.

Kingo was only forty-two years old when he assumed his new position. His quick elevation from an obscure parish to one of the highest offices within the church might well have strained the abilities of an older and more experienced man. But there can be no doubt that he filled his high position with signal ability.

He was both able and earnest, both practical and spiritual. His diocese prospered under his care and his work as a bishop, aside from his renown as a poet, was outstanding enough to give him an enviable reputation in his own generation.

But since his permanent fame and importance rest upon his achievement as a hymnwriter, his appointment as bishop probably must be counted as a loss, both

to himself and to the church. His new responsibilities and the multifarious duties of his high office naturally left him less time for other pursuits. He traveled, visited and preached almost continuously throughout his large charge, and it appears like a miracle that under these circumstances, he still found time to write hymns. But in 1684, only two years after his consecration as bishop, he published the second part of Spiritual Song-Choir.

This book bears a dedication to the queen, Charlotte Amalia. She was German by birth and a pious, able and distinguished woman in her own right. Kingo praises her especially for her effort to learn and speak the Danish language. In this respect, he declares, “Her Majesty put many to shame who have eaten the king’s bread for thirty years without learning to speak thirty words of Danish, because they hold it to be a homespun language, too coarse for their silky tongues”.

Spiritual Song-Choir, Part II contains twenty hymns and seventeen “sighs”, thus outwardly following the arrangement of Part I. But the content is very different. The hymns are songs of penitence, repentance and faith. They show mastery of form, a wealth of imagery, a facility for concentrated expression and a range of sentiment from stark despair to the most confident trust that is, perhaps, unequalled in Danish poetry. It is an embattled soul that speaks through these hymns, a soul that has faced the abyss and clung heroically, but not always successfully, to the pinnacle of faith. One feels that the man who penned the following lines has not merely imagined the nearness of the pit but felt himself standing on the very brink of it.

Mountains of transgressions press

On my evil burdened shoulders,

Guilt bestrews my path with boulders,

Sin pollutes both soul and flesh,

Law and justice are proclaiming

Judgment on my guilty head,

Hell’s eternal fires are flaming,

Filling all my soul with dread.

Of an even darker mood is the great hymn: “Sorrow and Unhappiness”, with the

searching verse:

Is there then no one that cares,

Is there no redress for sorrow,

Is there no relief to borrow,

Is there no response to prayers,

Is the fount of mercy closing,

Is the soul to bondage sold,

Is the Lord my plea opposing,