Brorson’s hymns were received with immediate favor. The Rare Clenod of Faith passed through six editions before the death of its author, and a new church hymnal published in 1740 contained ninety of his hymns. Pietism swept
the country and adopted Brorson as its poet. But its reign was surprisingly short.
King Christian VI died in 1746, and the new king, a luxury-loving worldling, showed little interest in religion and none at all in Pietism. Under his influence the movement quickly waned. During the latter part of the eighteenth century it
was overpowered by a wave of religious rationalism which engulfed the greater
part of the intellectual classes and the younger clergy. The intelligentsia adopted Voltaire and Rousseau as their prophets and talked endlessly of the new age of
enlightenment in which religion was to be shorn of its mysteries and people were to be delivered from the bonds of superstition.
In such an atmosphere the old hymns and, least of all, Brorson’s hymns with
their mystic contemplation of the Saviour’s blood and wounds could not survive.
The leading spirits in the movement demanded a new hymnal that expressed the
spirit of the new age. The preparation of such a book was undertaken by a committee of popular writers, many of whom openly mocked Evangelical
Christianity. Their work was published under the title The Evangelical Christian Hymnal, a peculiar name for a book which, as has been justly said, was neither Evangelical nor Christian. The compilers had eliminated many of the
finest hymns of Kingo and Brorson and ruthlessly altered others so that they were irrecognizable. To compensate for this loss, a great number of “poetically
perfect hymns” by newer writers—nearly all of whom have happily been
forgotten—were adopted.
But while would-be leaders discarded or mutilated the old hymns and, with a zeal worthy of a better cause, sought to force their new songs upon the congregations, many of these clung tenaciously to their old hymnal and stoutly
refused to accept the new. In places the controversy even developed into a singing contest, with the congregations singing the numbers from the old hymnal
and the deacons from the new. And these contests were, of course, expressive of
an even greater controversy than the choice of hymns. They represented the struggle between pastors, working for the spread of the new gospel, and congregations still clinging to the old. With the highest authorities actively supporting the new movement, the result of the contest was, however, a foregone
conclusion. The new enlightenment triumphed, and thousands of Evangelical Christians became homeless in their own church.
During the subsequent period of triumphant Rationalism, groups of Evangelical
laymen began to hold private assemblies in their own homes and to provide for
their own spiritual nourishment by reading Luther’s sermons and singing the old
hymns. In these assemblies Brorson’s hymns retained their favor until a new Evangelical awakening during the middle part of the nineteenth century
produced a new appreciation of the old hymns and restored them to their rightful place in the worship of the church. And the songs of the Sweet Singer of Pietism have, perhaps, never enjoyed a greater favor in his church than they do today.
[8]Another translation: “Like thousand mountains brightly crowned” by S. D.
Rodholm in “World of Song”.
Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig
the Singer of Pentecost
Chapter Eleven
Grundtvig’s Early Years
The latter part of the eighteenth and the earlier part of the nineteenth century produced a number of great changes in the spiritual, intellectual and economic life of Denmark. The strong Pietist movement at the time of Brorson, as we have
seen, lost much of its momentum with the death of King Christian VI, and within
a few years was overwhelmed by a wave of the intellectual and religious Rationalism then engulfing a large part of Europe. Religion, it was claimed, should be divested of its mysteries and reason made supreme. Whatever could not justify itself before the bar of the human intellect should be discarded as outworn conceptions of a less enlightened age. The movement, however,
comprised all shades of opinions from pure agnosticism to an idealistic belief in God, virtue and immortality.
Although firmly opposed by some of the most influential Danish leaders of that
day, such as the valiant bishop of Sjælland, Johan Edinger Balle, Rationalism swept the country with irresistible force. Invested in the attractive robe of human enlightenment and appealing to man’s natural intellectual vanity, the movement
attracted the majority of the upper classes and a large proportion of the clergy. Its adherents studied Rousseau and Voltaire, talked resoundingly of human
enlightenment, organized endless numbers of clubs, and—in some instances—
worked zealously for the social and economic uplift of the depressed classes.
In this latter endeavor many pastors assumed a commendable part. Having lost the old Gospel, the men of the cloth became eager exponents of the “social gospel” of that day. While we may not approve their Christmas sermons “on improved methods of stable feeding,” or their Easter sermons “on the profitable
