Of this accomplishment, Grundtvig wrote two hundred years later: "Kingo's
hymns represent not only the greatest miracle of the 17th century but
such an exceptional phenomenon in the realm of poetry that it is
explainable only by the fates who in their wisdom preserved the seed of
an Easter Lily for a thousand years, and then returned it across the sea
that it might flower in its original soil". Kingo's family on the
paternal side had immigrated to Denmark from that part of Scotland which
once had been settled by the poetic Northern sea rovers, and Grundtvig
thus conceives the poetic genius of Kingo to be a revival of an ancestral
gift, brought about by the return of his family to its original home and
a new infusion of pure Northern blood. The conception, like so much that
Grundtvig wrote is at least ingenious, and it is recommended by the fact
that Kingo's poetry does convey a spirit of robust realism that is far
more characteristic of the age of the Vikings than of his own.
Thomas Kingo, the grandfather of the poet, immigrated from Crail,
Scotland, to Denmark about 1590, and settled at Helsingoer, Sjaelland,
where he worked as a tapestry weaver. He seems to have attained a
position of some prominence, and it is related that King James IV of
Scotland, during a visit to Helsingoer, lodged at his home. His son, Hans
Thomeson Kingo, who was about two years old when the family arrived in
Denmark, does not appear to have prospered as well as his father. He
learned the trade of linen and damask weaving, and established a modest
business of his own at Slangerup, a town in the northern part of Sjaelland
and close to the famous royal castle of Frederiksborg. At the age of
thirty-eight he married a young peasant girl, Karen Soerendatter, and
built a modest but eminently respectable home. In this home, Thomas
Kingo, the future hymnwriter, was born December 15, 1634.
It was an unusually cold and unfriendly world that greeted the advent of
the coming poet. The winter of his birth was long remembered as one of
the hardest ever experienced in Denmark. The country's unsuccessful
participation in the Thirty Year's War had brought on a depression that
threatened its very existence as a nation; and a terrible pestilence
followed by new wars increased and prolonged the general misery, making
the years of Kingo's childhood and youth one of the darkest periods in
Danish history.
But although these conditions brought sorrow and ruin to thousands, even
among the wealthy, the humble home of the Kingos somehow managed to
survive. Beneath its roof industry and frugality worked hand in hand with
piety and mutual love to brave the storms that wrecked so many and
apparently far stronger establishments. Kingo always speaks with the
greatest respect and gratitude of his "poor but honest parents". In a
poetic description of his childhood years he vividly recalls their
indulgent kindness to him.
I took my pilgrim staff in hand
Ere I attempted talking;
I had scarce left my swaddling-band
Before they set me walking.
They coached me onward with a smile
And suited me when tearful.
One step was farther than a mile,
For I was small and fearful.
But discipline was not forgotten. Parents in those days usually kept the
rod close to the apple, often too close. And Kingo's parents, despite
their kindness, made no exception to the rule. He was a lively,
headstrong boy in need of a firm hand, and the hand was not wanting.
As a child my daily bread
I with rod and penance had,
he wrote later, adding that the fruits of that chastisement are now sweet
to him. Nor do his parents ever appear to have treated him with the cold,
almost loveless austerity that so many elders frequently felt it their
duty to adopt toward their children. Their discipline was tempered by
kindness and an earnest Christian faith. Although Hans Kingo seems to
some extent to have been influenced by the strict Presbyterianism of his
Scotch forebears, he does not appear, like so many followers of that
stern faith, to have taught his children to believe in God as the strict
judge rather than as the loving Father of Jesus Christ. In his later
years the son at least gives us an attractive picture of his childhood
faith:
I gratefully remember
God's loving care for me
Since from my nursery chamber
I toddled fearfully.
I lived contented in His care
And trusted in His children's prayer.
These bright years of his happy childhood were somewhat darkened,
however, when, at the age of six, he entered the Danish and, two years
later, the Latin school of his home town. Nothing could be more unsuited
for a child of tender years than the average school of those days. The
curriculum was meager, the teaching poor and the discipline cruel. Every
day saw its whipping scenes. For a day's unexplained absence the
punishment for the smaller boys was three lashes on their bare seats and
for the larger an equal number on their bare backs. For graver offences
up to twenty lashes might be administered. On entering the Latin school
every boy had to adopt a new language. Only Latin could be spoken within
its classical confines; and woe be to the tike who so far forgot himself
as to speak a word in the native tongue anywhere upon the school
premises. The only way anyone, discovered to have perpetrated such a
crime, could escape the severest punishment was to report another culprit
guilty of the same offense. Under such conditions one cannot wonder that
Kingo complains:
The daily round from home to school
Was often hard and weary.
It did my youthful ardour cool
And made my childhood dreary.
At the age of fifteen Kingo, for reasons now unknown, was transferred
from the school of his home town to that at the neighboring city of
Hilleroed. Here, on account of his outstanding ability, he was accepted
into the home of his new rector, Albert Bartholin, a young man of
distinguished family and conspicuous personal endowments.
Although the school at Hilleroed was larger, it probably was not much
better than that at Slangerup; but the close association of the humble
weaver's son with his distinguished rector and his refined family, no
doubt, was a distinct advantage to him. The location of Hilleroed on the
shores of the idyllic Frederiksborg Lake and close to the magnificent
castle of the same name is one of the loveliest in Denmark. The castle
had recently been rebuilt, and presented, together with its lovely
surroundings, a most entrancing spectacle. Its famous builder, Christian
IV, had just gone the way of all flesh; but the new king, Frederik, known
for his fondness for royal pomp, frequently resided at the castle
together with his court, and thus Kingo must often have enjoyed the
opportunity to see both the king and the outstanding men of his
government.
It is not unlikely that this near view of the beauty and splendor of his
country, the finest that Denmark had to offer, served to awaken in Kingo
that ardent love for all things Danish for which he is noticed. While
still at Hilleroed he, at any rate, commenced a comprehensive study of
Danish literature, a most unusual thing for a young student to do at a
time when German was the common language of all the upper classes and
Danish was despised as the speech of traders and peasants. As neither his
school nor the general sentiment of the intellectual classes did anything
to encourage interest in native culture, some other influence must have
aroused in the young Kingo what one of his early biographers calls "his
peculiar inclination for his native tongue and Danish poetry". A few
patriotic and forward looking men, it is true, had risen above the
general indifference and sought to inspire a greater interest in the use
and cultivation of the Danish language; but this work was still very much
in its infancy, and it is not likely that the young Kingo knew much about
it.
He graduated from Hilleroed in the spring of 1654, and enrolled at the
university of Copenhagen on May 6 of the same year. But a terrific
outbreak of the plague forced the university to close on May 30, and
Kingo returned to his home. The scourge raged for about eight months,
carrying away one third of the city's population, and it was winter
before Kingo returned to the school and enrolled in the department of
theology. The rules of the university required each student, at the
beginning of his course, to choose a preceptor, a sort of guardian who
should direct his charge in his studies and counsel him in his personal
life and conduct. For this very important position Kingo wisely chose one
of the most distinguished and respected teachers at the university, Prof.
Bartholin, a brother of his former rector. Professor Bartholin was not
only a learned man, known for his years of travel and study in foreign
parts, but he was also a man of rare personal gifts and sincere piety. In
his younger days he had spent four years at the castle of Rosenholm where
the godly and scholarly nobleman, Holger Rosenkrans, then gathered groups
of young nobles about him for study and meditation. Rosenkrans was a
close friend of John Arndt, a leader in the early Pietist movement in
Germany, to which the young Bartholin under his influence became deeply
attached. Nor had this attachment lessened with the years. And
Bartholin's influence upon Kingo was so strong that the latter, when
entering upon his own work, lost no time in showing his adherence to the
Arndt-Rosenkrans view of Christianity.
Meanwhile he applied himself diligently to his work at the university.
Like other disciplines the study of theology at that time was affected by
a considerable portion of dry-rust. Orthodoxy ruled the cathedra. With
that as a weapon, the student must be trained to meet all the wiles of
the devil and perversions of the heretics. Its greatest Danish exponent,
Jesper Brochman, had just passed to his reward, but his monumental work,
_The System of Danish Theology_, remained after him, and continued to
serve as an authoritative textbook for many years to come. Though dry and
devoted to hairsplitting as orthodoxy no doubt was, it probably was not
quite as lifeless as later generations represent it to have been. Kingo
is often named "The Singer of Orthodoxy", yet no one can read his
soul-stirring hymns with their profound sense of sin and grace without
feeling that he, at least, possessed a deeper knowledge of Christianity
than a mere dogmatic training could give him.
Kingo's last months at the university were disturbed by a new war with
Sweden that for a while threatened the independent existence of the
country, a threat which was averted only by the ceding of some of its
finest provinces. During these stirring events, Kingo had to prepare for
his final examinations which he passed with highest honors in the spring
of 1658.
Thus with considerable deprivation and sacrifice, the humble weaver's son
had attained his membership in the academic world, an unusual
accomplishment for a man of his standing in those days. His good parents
had reason to be proud of their promising and well educated son who now,
after his many years of study, returned to the parental home. His stay
there was short, however, for he obtained almost immediate employment as
a private tutor, first with the family of Joergen Soerensen, the overseer
at Frederiksborg castle, and later, with the Baroness Lena Rud of Vedby
Manor, a position which to an impecunious but ambitious young man like
Kingo must have appeared especially desirable. Lena Rud belonged to what
at that time was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in
the country. Many of her relatives occupied neighboring estates, a
circumstance which enabled Kingo to become personally acquainted with a
number of them; and with one of them, the worthy Karsten Atke, he soon
formed a close and lasting friendship. He also appears to have made a
very favorable impression upon his influential patrons and, despite his
subordinate position, to have become something of a social leader,
especially among the younger members of the group.
Meanwhile the country once again had been plunged into a desperate
struggle. The Swedish king, Gustav X, soon repented of the peace he had
made when the whole country was apparently at his mercy, and renewed the
war in the hope of affixing the Danish crown to his own. This hope
vanished in the desperate battle of Copenhagen in 1659, where the Swedish
army suffered a decisive defeat by the hand of an aroused citizenry. But
detachments of the defeated army still occupied large sections of the
country districts where they, like all armies of that day, robbed,
pillaged and murdered at will, driving thousands of people away from
their homes and forcing them to roam homeless and destitute through the
wasted countryside. Acts of robbery and violence belonged to the order of
the day. Even Kingo received a bullet through his mouth in a fight with a
Swedish dragoon, whom he boldly attempted to stop from stealing one of
his employer's horses. When the country finally emerged from the
conflict, her resources were depleted, her trade destroyed, and large
sections of her country districts laid waste, losses which it required
years for her to regain. But youth must be served. Despite the gravity
and hardships of the day, the young people from Vedby managed to have
their parties and other youthful diversions. And at these, Kingo soon
became a welcome and valued guest. His attractive personality, sprightly
humor and distinct social gifts caused his highly placed friends to
accept him with delight.
This popularity, if he had cared to exploit it, might have carried him
far. In those days the usual road to fame and fortune for an obscure
young man was to attach himself to some wealthy patron and acquire a
position through him. With the aid of his wealthy friends Kingo could
easily enough have obtained employment as a companion to some young noble
going abroad for travel and study. It came, therefore, as a surprise to
all when he accepted a call as assistant to the Reverend Jacobsen Worm at
Kirkehelsinge, a country parish a few miles from Vedby. The position was
so far short of what a young man of Kingo's undoubted ability and
excellent connections might have obtained, that one may well ask for his
motive in accepting it. And although Kingo himself has left no direct
explanation of his action, the following verses, which he is thought to
have written about this time, may furnish a key.
Wherever in the world I went
Upon my work or pleasure bent,
I everywhere my Lord did find,
He so absorbed my heart and mind
That I His blessed image traced
In everything I saw or faced.
My thoughts on heaven ever dwelt,
For earth I but aversion felt.
My heart exalted Jesus' name,
His kingdom was my constant theme;
My prayer was, by repentance true,
All carnal passions to subdue.
It is understandable, at least, that a young man with such sentiments
should forego the prospect of worldly honor for a chance to serve his
Master.
Kingo was ordained in the Church of Our Lady at Copenhagen in September,
1661, and was installed in his new office a few weeks later. The seven
years that he spent in the obscure parish were, no doubt, among the most
fruitful years of Kingo's life, proving the truth of the old adage that
it is better that a man should confer honor on his position than that the
position should confer honor upon him. His fiery, forceful eloquence made
him known as an exceptionally able and earnest pastor, and his literary
work established his fame as one of the foremost Danish poets of his day.
While still at Vedby, Kingo had written a number of poems which, widely
circulated in manuscripts, had gained him a local fame. But he now
published a number of new works that attained nation-wide recognition.
These latter works compare well with the best poetry of the period and
contain passages that still may be read with interest. The style is
vigorous, the imagery striking and at times beautiful, but the Danish
language was too little cultivated and contemporary taste too uncertain
to sustain a work of consistent excellence. Most successful of Kingo's
early poems are "Karsten Atke's Farewell to Lion County", a truly felt
and finely expressed greeting to his friends, the Atkes, on their
departure from their former home, and "Chrysillis", a lovesong, written
in a popular French style that was then very much admired in Denmark.
Both poems contain parts that are surprisingly fine, and they attained an
immense popularity. But although Kingo throughout his life continued to
write secular poetry that won him the highest praise, that part of his
work is now well nigh forgotten. It is truly interesting to compare the
faded beauty of his secular poems with the perennial freshness of his
hymns.
It was inevitable that Kingo, with his high ambitions and undoubted
ability should desire a larger field of labor. His salary was so small
that he had to live in the home of his employer, a circumstance that for
various reasons was not always pleasant. Pastor Worm had married thrice
and had a large family of children of all ages from a babe in arms to a
son at the university. This son, Jacob Worm, was a brilliant but
irascible and excessively proud youth only a few years younger than
Kingo. From what we know about him in later years, it is likely that
Kingo's contact with him during his vacations at home must have proved
exceedingly trying. The bitter enmity that later existed between the two
men probably had its inception at this time. In 1666, Kingo, therefore,
applied for a waiting appointment to his home church at Slangerup, where
the pastor was growing old and, in the course of nature, could be
expected ere long to be called to his reward. The application was
granted, and when the pastor did die two years later, Kingo at once was
installed as his successor.
Slangerup was only a small city, but it had a new and very beautiful
church, which still stands almost unchanged. One may still sit in the
same pews and see the same elaborately carved pulpit and altar which
graced its lofty chancel during the pastorate of the great hymnwriter. A
beautiful chandelier, which he donated and inscribed, still adorns the
arched nave. In this splendid sanctuary it must have been inspiring to
listen to the known eloquence of its most famous pastor as he preached
the gospel or, with his fine musical voice, chanted the liturgy before
the altar. The church was always well attended when Kingo conducted the
service. People soon recognized his exceptional ability and showed their
appreciation of his devoted ministry. The position of a pastor was then
much more prominent than it is now. He was the official head of numerous
enterprises, both spiritual and civic, and the social equal of the best
people in the community. With many people the custom of calling him
"Father" was then by no means an empty phrase. Parishioners sought their
pastor and accepted his counsel in numerous affairs that are now
considered to be outside of his domain. In view of Kingo's humble
antecedents, a position of such prominence might well have proved
difficult to maintain among a people that knew his former station. But of
such difficulties the record of his pastorate gives no indication. He
was, it appears, one exception to the rule that a prophet is not
respected in his own country.
When he moved to Slangerup, Kingo was still unmarried. But about two
years later he married the widow of his former superior, Pastor Worm,
becoming at once the head of a large family consisting of the children of
his wife and those of her first husband by his previous marriage. It was
a serious responsibility to assume, both morally and financially. The
parish was quite large, but his income was considerably reduced by the
payment of a pension to the widow of the former pastor and the salary to
an assistant. With such a drain on his income and with a large family to
support, Kingo's economic circumstances must have been strained. But he
was happy with his wife and proved himself a kind and conscientious
stepfather to her children who, even after their maturity, maintained a
close relationship with him.
Kingo's happiness proved, however, to be but a brief interlude to a
period of intense sorrows and disappointments. His wife died less than a
year after their marriage; his father, whom he loved and revered, passed
away the same year; and the conduct of his stepson, the formerly
mentioned Jacob Worm, caused him bitter trouble and humiliation. The
bright prospect of this brilliant but erratic youth had quickly faded.
After a number of failures, he had been forced to accept a position as
rector of the small and insignificant Latin school at Slangerup, thus
coming under the immediate authority of Kingo, who, as pastor, supervised
the educational institutions of the parish. Worm always seems to have
thought of Kingo as a former assistant to his father, and his position as
an inferior to a former inferior in his own home, therefore, bitterly
wounded his pride. Seeking an outlet for his bitterness, he wrote a
number of extremely abusive poems about his stepfather and circulated
them among the people of the parish. This unwarranted abuse aroused the
anger of Kingo and provoked him to answer in kind. The ensuing battle of
vituperation and name-calling brought no honor to either side. Worm's
conduct toward his superior, the man who was unselfishly caring for his
minor sisters and brothers, deserves nothing but condemnation; but it is
painful, nevertheless, to behold the great hymnwriter himself employing
the abusive language of his worthless opponent. The times were violent,
however, and Kingo possessed his share of their temper. Kingo's last act
in this drama between himself and his stepson throws a somewhat softening
light upon his conduct. Embittered by persistent failures, Worm continued
to pour out his bitterness not only upon his stepfather, but upon other
and much higher placed persons until at last he was caught and sentenced
to die on the gallows for "having written and circulated grossly
defamatory poems about the royal family". In this extremity, he appealed
to Kingo, who successfully exerted his then great influence to have the
sentence commuted to banishment for life to the Danish colony in India.
Chapter Four
Kingo, the Hymnwriter
Kingo's first hymns appeared shortly before Christmas, 1673, in a small
volume entitled _Spiritual Song-Choir, Part I_. The book contained
fifteen morning and evening hymns and seven paraphrases of the psalms.
Later editions were enlarged by seven "Morning and Evening Sighs" short
hymns that belong to the very best in the collection.
In a foreword addressed to the king, Kingo states that "he has written
these hymns with the hope that they might serve to edify his fellow
Christians, advance the teaching of the Gospel and benefit the royal
household at those daily devotions which it is the duty of every
Christian home to practice". He prays, therefore, he continues, that "the
king will graciously bestow the same approval upon this work that he has
so kindly given to his previous efforts, and thereby encourage him to
continue his endeavor until the Danes shall possess a hymnody that they
have neither begged nor borrowed from other nations. For the Danish
spirit," he concludes, "is assuredly neither so weak nor so poor that it
cannot fly as high toward heaven as that of other peoples without being
borne upon strange and foreign wings".
Commenting on the content of the book, Kingo further explains that he
expects sensitive readers will discover imperfections in his work which
he himself has failed to see, and that it would please him to have such
blemishes called to his attention so that they might be corrected in
future issues. His choice of tunes will, he fears, provoke criticism. He
has set a number of hymns to the melodies of popular songs in order that
"those, who for the sake of its tune, now gladly listen to a song of
Sodom may, if they be Christians, with the more pleasure use it with a
hymn about Zion. By examining the work of other hymnwriters possible
critics might assure themselves, however, that he had in this matter only
followed their example." But Kingo need not have apologized for his
choice of tunes, for they were on the whole fine and were received
without objection.
It would be difficult to overstate the enthusiasm with which Kingo's
hymns were received. Within a few years they were printed in numerous
editions and translated into several foreign languages. Their
enthusiastic reception was well deserved. Viewed against the background
of literary mediocrity that characterized the period, Kingo's hymns stand
out with amazing perfection. Danish hymnody contained nothing that could
compare with them, and other countries, as far as morning and evening
hymns were concerned, were in the same position. Paul Gerhardt's fine
hymn, "Now Rests Beneath Night's Shadow", which was written twenty years
earlier, had been ridiculed into disuse; Ken's famous morning hymn dates
from twenty years later; and none of these are as fine as the best of
Kingo's.
As might be expected, the hymns are not all of the same merit. Some of
them are exceedingly fine; others show the defects of an imperfectly
developed language and a deficient literary taste. In the matter of style
and form the author had almost nothing to guide him. It is not
surprising, therefore, 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, 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,
Is His heart to sinners cold?
The poet answers his questions in the following stanzas by assuring
himself that the Sun of God's grace can and will pierce even his "cloud
of despair", and that he must wait therefore in quietness and trust:
O my soul, be quiet then!
Jesus will redress thy sadness,
Jesus will restore thy gladness,
Jesus will thy help remain.
Jesus is thy solace ever
And thy hope in life and death;
Jesus will thee soon deliver;
Thou must cling to that blest faith.
The uncertainty of life and its fortunes furnished a favored theme for
many of his hymns, as for instance in the splendid--
Sorrow and gladness oft journey together,
Trouble and happiness swift company keep;
Luck and misfortune change like the weather;
Sunshine and clouds quickly vary their sweep.
which is, poetically at least, one of his finest compositions. The poet's
own career so far had been one of continuous and rather swift
advancement. But there was, if not in his own outward fortune, then in
the fortunes of other notables of his day, enough to remind him of the
inconstancy of worldly honor and glory. Only a few months before the
publication of his hymns, Leonora Christine Ulfeldt, the once beautiful,
admired and talented daughter of Christian IV, had been released from
twenty-two years of imprisonment in a bare and almost lightless
prison-cell; Peder Griffenfeldt, a man who from humble antecedents
swiftly had risen to become the most powerful man in the kingdom, had
been stript even more swiftly of all his honors and thrown into a dismal
prison on a rocky isle by the coast of Norway; and there were other and
well known instances of swift changes in the fortunes of men in those
days when they were subject not only to the ordinary vicissitudes of
human existence but to the fickle humor of an absolute monarch. It is,
therefore, as though Kingo at the height of his own fortune would remind
himself of the quickness with which it might vanish, of the evanescense
and vanity of all worldly glory. That idea is strikingly emphasized in
the following famous hymn:
Vain world, fare thee well!
I purpose no more in thy bondage to dwell;
The burdens which thou hast enticed me to bear,
I cast now aside with their troubles and care.
I spurn thy allurements, which tempt and appall;
'Tis vanity all!
What merit and worth
Hath all that the world puts so temptingly forth!
It is naught but bubbles and tinctured glass,
Loud clamoring cymbals and shrill sounding brass.
What are their seductions which lure and enthrall;
'Tis vanity all!
O honor and gold,
Vain idols which many with worship behold!
False are your affluence, your pleasure and fame;
Your wages are envy, deception and shame,
Your garlands soon wither, your kingdom shall fall;
'Tis vanity all!
O carnal desire,
Thou tempting, consuming and treacherous fire,
That catches like tinder and scorches like flame,
Consigning the victim to sorrow and shame,
Thy honeyest potion is wormwood and gall;
'Tis vanity all!
Then, fare thee farewell,
Vain world, with thy tempting and glamorous spell!
Thy wiles shall no longer my spirit enslave,
Thy splendor and joy are designed for the grave
I yearn for the solace from sorrows and harm
Of Abraham's arm!
There shall all my years
I bloom like the lily when summer appears;
There day is not ruled by the course of the sun
Nor night by the silvery light of the moon;
Lord Jesus shall shine as my sun every day
In heaven for aye.
This is an eloquent farewell, clothed in all the expressive wealth of
language and imagery of which Kingo was such a master. One cannot repress
the feeling, however, that it presents a challenge rather than a
farewell. A man that so passionately avows his repudiation of the world
must have felt its attraction, its power to tempt and enthrall. He fights
against it; the spirit contends with the flesh, but the fight is not
easy. And it is in part this very human trait in Kingo that endears his
song to us. What Christian does not recognize some of his own experiences
in the following characteristic song:
Ever trouble walks beside me,[2]
Ever God with grace provides me,
Ever have I fear and grief,
Ever Jesus brings relief.
Ever sin my heart accuses,
Ever Jesus help induces,
Ever am I weighed with care,
Ever full of praise and prayer.
So is joy by grief attended,
Fortune with misfortune blended;
Blessings mixed with grief and strife
Is the measure of my life.
But, O Jesus, I am crying:
Help that faith, on Thee relying,
Over sin and grief alway
Shall prevail and gain the day.
Some statements in this hymn have frequently been criticized as
contradictory, for how can one be "always" full of care and "always" full
of praise and prayer? The terms cancel each other. But are not such
contradictions expressive of life itself? Few--if any--are wholly one
thing or wholly another. People are complex. Their joys struggle with
their sorrows, their most earnest faith with their doubts and fears. It
brings Kingo nearer to us to know that he shared that struggle. His songs
have appealed to millions because they are both so spiritual and so
human. How expressive of human need and Christian trust are not the
following brief lines:
Lord, though I may
The whole long day
Find no relief from sorrow,
Yea, should the night
Afford no light
To ease my plight--
Thou comest on the morrow.
----------
[2]Another translation:
"Ever is a peril near me" by C. Doving in "Hymnal for Church and Home".
Chapter Five
Kingo's Psalmbook
After the publication of _Spiritual Song-Choir II_, Kingo stood at the
very height of his fame. His hymns were sung everywhere, and nobles and
commoners vied with each other in chanting his praises. But a much more
difficult task now awaited him--that of preparing a new hymnal.
Hans Thomisson's hymnal had become antiquated after serving the church
for nearly one hundred and twenty-five years. It had served its purpose
well. Its hymns had been sung by high and low until they had entered into
the thoughts and conscience of all. A changing language and a fast
developing literary taste long ago had shown their need for revision; but
the people so far had opposed all attempts to change their beloved old
songs. Their defects by now had become so conspicuous, however, that even
the more conservative admitted the desirability of at least a limited
revision. And the only man for the undertaking of such a task was, of
course, Kingo.
In March, 1683, King Christian V, therefore, commissioned Thomas Kingo to
prepare and publish a new church hymnal for the kingdom of Denmark and
Norway. The carefully prepared instructions of his commission directed
him to eliminate undesirable hymns; to revise antiquated rhymes and
expressions; to adopt at least two new hymns by himself or another for
every pericope and epistle of the church year, but under no circumstances
to make any changes in Luther's hymns that would alter their meaning.
Kingo would undoubtedly have saved himself a great deal of disappointment
if he had conscientiously followed his instructions. But the draft of the
first half of the hymnal, which was sent to the king six years later,
showed that, intentionally or otherwise, he had ignored them almost
completely. The draft contained 267 hymns of which 137 were his own and
the remainder those of various authors, both old and new. Though Kingo
might reasonably have been criticized for adopting such a proportionally
large number of his own compositions, it was not, however, his selection
of new hymns but his treatment of the old hymns that provoked the
greatest opposition. For he had not contented himself with merely
revising the latter but in many instances had rewritten them so
completely that they were unrecognizable. And it mattered not that the
new texts were on the whole much finer than the old, for people were not
yet ready to relinquish these. The opposition grew so strong that the
king, though he had already approved the proposed hymnal, a few weeks
later revoked not only his approval but Kingo's commission.
This summary action came as an almost stunning blow to Kingo, affecting
seriously both his pride and his finances. On the strength of the king's
approval, he had already bought a printing press, acquired large
quantities of material and printed a large edition of the book. And these
investments, which represented a large part of his private fortune, were
now apparently lost. It helped but little that the king, in order to
salve the wound he had inflicted upon one of his most distinguished
subjects, elevated him to the nobility, for the hurt was too deep to be
healed by a mere gesture.
One cannot deny, however, that the monarch had serious reason for his
action. Not only had Kingo violated his instructions but he had planned a
book that hardly could have proved satisfactory. It would have been both
too large and too expensive for common use. He himself, on the other
hand, had reason to complain that he had not been consulted before the
work, on which he had spent so much of his time and substance, was
summarily rejected. No doubt the king had acted with unseemly haste and
lack of consideration.
The work was now held in abeyance for a few years. But the need for a new
hymnal was too pressing to be permanently ignored. The king, therefore,
appointed Soeren Jonasson, a provost at the cathedral of Roskilde, to
undertake the work. Jonasson was known as an excellent translator of
German hymns, and the choice appeared reasonable. He worked fast and in
less than two years was able to present a draft of his work. This
contained a well balanced selection of the old hymns and about twenty new
hymns by himself and various German authors, but not a single hymn by
Kingo. The omission no doubt reflects the envy that the poet's quick rise
to fame had stirred up against him in certain influential circles. His
enemies, however, had overshot their mark. Even the king realized that it
would be impossible at this time to publish a hymnal that ignored the
work of the country's greatest hymnwriter. And so Jonasson's work
promptly shared the fate of his predecessor's.
The troublesome problem now rested again for a few years until it was
revived by the zealous efforts of the king's chaplain, Peter Jespersen, a
close friend of the Norwegian hymnwriter, Peter Dass and himself a native
of the northern country.
A committee was appointed to prepare and publish a new hymnal "that
should give due recognition" to the work of Kingo. Although it was not
specifically directed to do so, the committee proved its good will toward
the harshly treated poet by entering into correspondence with him and
asking him to forward the material he already possessed, and to write the
additional hymns that might be needed to complete the hymnal. With this
request Kingo gladly complied, hoping that thus after all the greater
part of his work would be put to use. In this, however, he was
disappointed. When the hymnal finally appeared it contained 297 hymns of
which only 85 were by Kingo. This represented, it is true, a great change
from Jonasson's proposal, but when it is remembered that the first half
of the work, proposed by himself, contained 136 of his own hymns, and
that he had written an additional number by the request of the committee,
it will be seen that even now less than half of his hymns found a place
in the hymnal.
Aside from this deplorable loss, it must be conceded that the committee
had done an excellent work and that its hymnal was much better suited for
general use than Kingo's proposed hymnal would have been. The committee
also had shown its fairness toward Kingo by commissioning him to print
the hymnal and to enjoy exclusive rights of its distribution for ten
years, so that he might recoup some of the losses he had sustained by the
rejection of his own book. He repaid the favor by turning out a most
excellent piece of work; and the book, both in content and appearance
undoubtedly rated as the finest hymnal the Danish church had so far
produced. It served the church for more than a hundred years, and was
always known as "Kingo's Hymnal", for, after all, his great hymns were
what gave it permanent value.
Chapter Six
Kingo's Church Hymns
Kingo's church hymns naturally differ from his spiritual songs. They are
more objective in form and less fiery in spirit. Most of them follow
their themes quite closely, reproducing in many instances even the words
of their text. Kingo is too vital, however, to confine himself wholly to
an objective presentation. Usually the last stanzas of his hymns are
devoted to a brief and often striking application of their text. He
possessed to a singular degree the ability to express a thought tersely,
as for instance in the following stanza, the last of a hymn on the
baptism of the Lord:
Our Lord is then our brother
In whom we may confide,
The Church of God our mother,
The Holy Ghost our guide;
Our blest baptismal dower
The bands of hell has riven
And opened us God's heaven,
This is our faith each hour.
The hymns may be classed under four headings: Festival Hymns, Sacramental
Hymns, Historical Hymns and Hymns on the Gospels and Epistles.
With the exception of his Easter anthem, his festival hymns cannot
compare with those of later authors. Some of his Pentecost hymns, such as
the hymns given below, are, however, still favorites.
The day of Pentecost draws nigh;
Come, Holy Spirit from on high,
Who with the Father and the Son
Is God eternal, three in one.
O God triune, Thy grace impart
Into my carnal, sinful heart,
That it a temple blest may be
Prepared and set aside for Thee.
Come, Holy Ghost, and witness bear
That I the life of Christ do share,
And that I know no other name
To save my soul from guilt and shame.
O Counselor of truth and light,
Teach me to know my Lord aright,
That from the way of faith I may
Not even for a moment stray.
Blest Spirit of my God and Lord,
Preserve me in Thy way and word,
Imbue me with Thy life and breath,
Console me in the hour of death.
Kingo frequently is referred to as "the Easter Singer of Denmark". His
claim to this title rests mainly on one song. Easter with its story of
triumphant victory appealed especially to him; and he wrote several
excellent hymns on the theme, but they are all overshadowed by the
splendid anthem presented below.
Like the golden sun ascending
In the darkly clouded sky
And on earth its glory spending
Until clouds and darkness fly,
So my Jesus from the grave,
From death's dark, abysmal cave,
Rose triumphant Easter morning,
Brighter than the sun returning.
Thanks, O thanks, to Thee arisen
Lord and God Immanuel,
That the foe could not imprison
Thee within his hell-dark cell.
Thanks that Thou didst meet our foe
And his kingdom overthrow.
Jubilant my spirit raises
New Thy never ending praises.
Sin and death and every arrow
Satan hence may point at me
Fall now broken at the narrow
Tomb that saw Thy victory;
There Thou didst them all destroy
Giving me the cup of joy
That Thou glorious resurrection
Wrought my pardon and protection.
Thou wilt hence to life awake me
By Thy resurrection power;
Death may wound and overtake me,
Worms my flesh and bones devour,
But I face the threat of death
With the sure and joyful faith
That its fearful reign was ended
When Thy might its portal rended.
Blessed Jesus, let the Spirit
So imbue my heart with grace
That I walk by Thy blest merit
And no more the way retrace
To the vile and miry pit
Where I lay condemned, unfit,
Till redeemed to life victorious
By Thy resurrection glorious.
In this rugged hymn Kingo is at his best--fiery, vital, a master of
imagery and graphic expression.
His hymns on the sacraments faithfully reflect the doctrines of the
Lutheran Church. Here he most clearly shows his ability to present
objective truths in a devotional spirit. We meet in these a Christian who
humbly and prayerfully accepts the whole mystery of God. For centuries
these rugged songs have served to express the sentiments of millions as
they met at the baptismal font or knelt before the altar. The following
is one of the most favored baptismal hymns both in the Danish and
Norwegian churches:
Whoso believes and is baptized[3]
God's kingdom shall inherit,
For he is cleansed by Jesus Christ
Who, by His grace and merit,
Adopts him as His child and heir,
Grants him in heaven's bliss to share
And seals him with His Spirit.
We ask with earnest faith of Thee,
Our Lord and blest Defender,
That Thou wilt guide us constantly
And, in Thy mercy tender,
Keep us in our baptismal grace
Until at last we take our place
With Thee 'midst heaven's splendor.
Kingo's communion hymns have to a large extent been superseded by later
hymns of Grundtvig and others. But some of them are still in common use.
The following characteristic hymn is frequently used before the
communion.
Lord Jesus Christ receive me now
As with a heart contrite I bow
Before Thine altar, blessed Lamb,
Who bore my sorrow, sin and shame.
I am today my Saviour's guest.
Bethink, my soul, the honor blest,
That He, Thy Lord, will sup with thee
And will Himself Thy nurture be.
He offers to thee with the bread
His body riven for thy aid,
And with the wine His precious blood,
The price of thy eternal good.
How this can be, I cannot tell;
He did not on the mystery dwell;
No mind the secret can perceive,
It is enough that I believe.
Rejoice, then, O my soul today
That God's appointed servant may
Now offer thee the gift so free
Through which thy Lord unites with thee.
O Lord, I offer Thee my soul
To nourish, strengthen and make whole.
Uphold me by Thy means of grace
Until I see Thee face to face.
The short hymn given below is a favorite after the communion in numerous
Danish and Norwegian churches.
O dearest Lord, receive from me
The heartfelt thanks I offer Thee,
Who through Thy body and Thy blood
Hast wrought my soul's eternal good.
Break forth, my soul, in joy and praise;
What wealth is mine this day of days!
My Jesus dwells within my soul;
Let every tongue His grace extol.
Kingo's historical hymns, that is, his hymns on the stories of the
Gospels, usually are not counted among the best. Yet there are many fine
hymns among them, such as the annunciation hymn, "There Came a Message
from the Sky"; the hymn about the wedding at Cana, "How Blessed Was that
Wedding Feast"; and the splendid hymn on the transfiguration of the Lord,
"I Lift My Eyes and Spirit Up unto the Hallowed Mountain Top Where Jesus
Once Ascended". Best known among this group of hymns is, however, his
great sequence of songs on our Lord's passion. In these inspired hymns we
meet again the Kingo that we know from his spiritual songs, fiery,
eloquent, imaginative, seeking to picture every detail and mood of the
Savior's suffering from the garden to the cross. Though it is difficult
to choose among hymns so universally fine, the one given below is, at
least, fairly representative of the group.
Over Kedron Jesus passes
Ready for His passion day,
While the Prince of Darkness masses
All his legions for the fray.
Wily foes with evil hearts
Bend their bows and point their darts,
Aiming at the Savior solely,
As the world forsakes Him wholly.
David once in great affliction
Crossed the Kedron's narrow stream,
While his foes without restriction
Hatched their vile and cunning scheme.
Darker far the shadows now
Bend about the Savior's brow
As He hastens to His passion
For the sinful world's salvation.
See Him, torn by woe appalling,
Kneeling in the garden still,
And upon His Father calling
That, if possible, He will
Take the bitter cup away.
But how meekly He doth pray!
What the Father shall Him offer,
He obediently will suffer.
See, what agony assails Him
In that dark and fearful hour;
Every friend deserts or fails Him;
Satan strikes with all his power;
And the flowers beneath Him grow
Crimson with the purple flow
From His anguished frame distilling
As His cup of woe is filling.
But, O flower, whose tender blossom
Caught that precious, purple dew
From the Saviour's riven bosom,
In a blessed hour you grew!
Eden's flowers did not bear
Fruits that could with yours compare:
By the blood your petals staining,
I am now salvation gaining.
When I like the flower must wither,
When I wilt and fade like grass,
When the hour of death draws hither,
When I from this world shall pass,
When my heart has ceased to beat
When I face God's judgment seat,
Then His blood, which stained the garden,
Shall procure my lasting pardon.
Kingo's hymns on the pericopes have proved less resistant to time than
most of his other work. They are in reality brief commentaries,
presenting a practical rather than a poetical exposition and application
of their texts. But even so, the singular freshness of their thought and
style has preserved many of them until our day. The following hymn on
Matthew 8, 23-27, the stilling of the storm, furnishes a characteristic
example of this group of hymns.
What vessel is that passing
Across the boundless deep,
On which the billows massing
In foaming fury sweep?
She seems in sore distress
As though she soon would founder
Upon the shoals around her
And sink without redress.
It is the storm-tossed vessel
Of God's own church on earth,
With which the world doth wrestle,
And send its fury forth,
While Jesus oft appears
As though He still were sleeping,
With His disciples weeping
And crying out in fears.
But let the world with fury
Against the church but rave,
And spend its might to bury
Her in the roaring wave!
It only takes a word
To hush the wild commotion
And show the mighty ocean
Her Lord is still aboard.
Kingo is often called the singer of orthodoxy. His hymns faithfully
present the accepted doctrines of his church. No hymnwriter is more
staunchly Lutheran than he. But he was too vital to become a mere
doctrinaire. With him orthodoxy was only a means to an end, a more
vigorous Christian life. Many of his hymns present a forceful and
straightforward appeal for a real personal life with God. The following
hymn may be called an orthodox revival hymn. It was a favorite with the
great Norwegian lay preacher, Hans Nielsen Hauge.
The power of sin no longer
Within my heart shall reign;
Faith must grow ever stronger
And carnal lust be slain;
For when I was baptized,
The bonds of sin were severed
And I by grace delivered
To live for Jesus Christ.
Would I accept the merit
Of my baptismal grace
And with my faith and spirit
The Savior's cross embrace,
How great would be my blame
Should I abide in evil
And not renounce the devil
In Christ my Savior's name.
It can bestow no treasure
On me that Christ arose.
If I will not with pleasure
The power of death oppose,
And with my heart embrace
The Savior, who is risen
And has from error's prison
Redeemed me by His grace.
Lord Jesus, help me ever
To fight "the old man" so
That he shall not deliver
Me to eternal woe,
But that I here may die
From sin and all offences
And, by the blood that cleanses,
Attain my home on high.
Thus, the permanent value of Kingo's hymns rests not only on their rugged
and expressive poetry but on the earnest and warm-hearted Christian
spirit that breathes through them. In the perennial freshness of this
spirit succeeding generations have experienced their kinship with the
poet and found expression for their own hope and faith. The following
ageless prayer expresses not only the spirit of the poet but that of
earnest Christians everywhere and of every age.
Print Thine image pure and holy[4]
On my heart, O Lord of Grace;
So that nothing high nor lowly
Thy blest likeness can efface.
Let the clear inscription be:
Jesus, crucified for me,
And the Lord of all creation,
Is my refuge and salvation.
----------
[3]Another translation: "He that believes and is baptized" by G. T. Rygh
in "Hymnal for Church and Home".
[4]Another translation: "On my heart imprint thine image" by P. O.
Stromme in "Hymnal for Church and Home".
Chapter Seven
Kingo's Later Years
Kingo's work with the hymnal had brought him much disappointment and some
loss of popularity. He felt not without justification that he had been
ill treated. He did not sulk in his tent, however, but pursued his work
with unabated zeal. His diocese was large, comprising not only Fyn but a
large number of smaller islands besides. The work of making periodical
visits to all parishes within such a far-flung charge was, considering
the then available means of transportation, not only strenuous but
hazardous. Roads were bad and vessels weak and slow. Hardships and danger
beset his almost continuous voyages and journeys. A number of poems
relating the adventures of the traveler are reminiscenses of his own
experiences.
But his work of visiting the churches constituted, of course, only a part
of his duties. He had to preach in the cathedral at Odense at least every
Wednesday in Lent and on all festival Sundays; examine the work and
conduct of all pastors within the diocese; act as an arbiter in disputes
between them and their parishioners; make sure that the financial affairs
of the church and its institutions were honestly conducted; attend to the
collection of church taxes; and superintend all schools, hospitals and
institutions of charity. The efficient accomplishment of all these tasks
might well test the strength and ability of any man.
His manifold duties also engendered numerous occasions for friction,
especially with the civil authorities, whose rights and duties often
overlapped his own. And he did not escape the danger of such bickerings
with their resultant ill-feeling. There is nothing to indicate that he
was contentious by nature. But he was no doubt zealous in defending the
prerogatives of his office. His temper was quick and somewhat martial.
"One could very well," one of his biographers declares, "envision him as
a knight in full armor leading a troop in the charge." With the exception
of his active enemies, most of his contemporaries agree, however, that he
was commonly more than patient in his dealings with others.
Kingo was an able administrator, and the institutions and finances of the
diocese prospered under his care. But it was as an earnest Christian and
a tireless worker for the spiritual improvement of his people that he won
their respect. He was known as an "eloquent man, mighty in the
Scriptures." One of his contemporaries said of him: "Were we not forced
after hearing him preach to say with the disciples, 'Did not our hearts
burn within us when he opened the Scriptures to us and, like a son of
thunder, published the sins of the house of Jacob, or, like Barnabas, the
son of comfort, bound up our wounds and comforted us with the comfort
with which he had himself been so richly comforted by God.'" The few
extracts of his sermons that have come down to us verify the truth of
this statement. They show us a man firmly grounded in his own faith and
zealous in impressing its truth upon others. His preaching was strictly
orthodox and yet fiery and practical. The poetical language and forceful
eloquence of his sermons remind one of the best of his spiritual songs.
Kingo's writings and frequent travels brought him into contact with most
of the outstanding personages of his country in his day. His charming
personality, lively conversation and fine sense of humor made him a
welcome guest wherever he appeared. On the island of Taasinge, he was a
frequent and beloved guest in the stately castle of the famous, pious and
revered admiral, Niels Juul, and his equally beloved wife, Birgitte
Ulfeldt. His friendship with this worthy couple was intimate and lasting.
When admiral Juul died, Kingo wrote the beautiful epitaph that still
adorns his tomb in the Holmen church at Copenhagen. On the island of
Falster he often visited the proud and domineering ex-queen, Carolina
Amalia. He was likewise a frequent visitor at the neighboring estate of
the once beautiful and adored daughter of king Christian IV, Leonora
Ulfeldt, whom the pride and hatred of the ex-queen had consigned for
twenty-two years to a dark and lonely prison cell. Years of suffering, as
we learn from her still famous book _Memories of Misery_, had made the
princess a deeply religious woman. Imprisonment had aged her body, but
had neither dulled her brilliant mind nor hardened her heart. She spent
her remaining years in doing good, and she was a great admirer of Kingo.
Thus duty and inclination alike brought him in contact with people of
very different stations and conditions in life. His position and high
personal endowments made him a notable figure wherever he went. But he
had his enemies and detractors as well as his friends. It was not
everyone who could see why a poor weaver's son should be raised to such a
high position. Kingo was accused of being greedy, vain, over-ambitious
and self-seeking, all of which probably contained at least a grain of
truth. We should have missed some of his greatest hymns, if he had been a
saint, and not a man of flesh and blood, of passionate feelings and
desires, a man who knew from his own experiences that without Christ he
could do nothing.
Despite certain peculiar complications, Kingo's private life was quite
happy. Four years after the death of his first wife, he entered into
marriage with Johanne Lund, a widow many years older than he. She brought
with her a daughter from her former marriage. And Kingo thus had the
exceptional experience of being stepfather to three sets of children, the
daughter of his second wife and the children and stepchildren of his
first. To be the head of such a family must inevitably have presented
confusing problems to a man who had no children of his own. But with the
exception of his stepson, all the children appear to have loved him and
maintained their relation to him as long as he lived.
His second wife died in 1694, when she was seventy-six and he sixty years
old. During the later years of her life she had been a helpless invalid,
demanding a great deal of patience and care of her busy husband.
Contemporaries comment on the frequent sight of the famous bishop
good-humoredly carrying his wife about like a helpless child. Less than a
year after her death, Kingo entered into a new marriage, this time with
an attractive young lady of the nobility, Birgitte Balslev, his junior by
more than thirty years. This new marriage provoked a great deal of gossip
and many predictions of disaster on account of the great disparity in
years of the contracting parties. But the predictions proved wholly
unfounded, and the marriage singularly happy. Kingo and Birgitte, a
contemporary tells us, were "inseparable as heart and soul." She was an
accomplished and highly intelligent woman, and Kingo found in her,
perhaps for the first time in his life, a woman with whom he could share
fully the rich treasure of his own heart and mind. He is credited with
the remark that he had done what all ought to do: married an elderly
woman in his young days, whom he could care for when she grew old, and a
young woman in his later years, who could comfort him in his old age.
But Kingo did not show the effect of his years. He was still as energetic
and vigorous as ever in the prosecution of his manifold duties. For a
number of years after his marriage, he even continued his strenuous
visits to all parts of his see, now always accompanied by his wife. His
leisure hours were usually spent on a beautiful estate a few miles from
Odense, which belonged to his wife. At this favored retreat and in the
company of friends, he still could relax and become the liveliest of them
all.
The years, however, would not be denied. At the turn of the century, he
suffered a first attack of the illness, a bladder complaint, that later
laid him in his grave. He made light of it and refused to ease his
strenuous activity. But the attack returned with increasing frequency
and, on a visit to Copenhagen in the fall of 1702, he was compelled to
take to his bed. He recovered somewhat and was able to return home. But
it was now clear to all that the days of the great bishop were numbered.
Early in the new year he became bedfast and suffered excruciatingly at
times. "But he submitted himself wholly to God's will and bore his
terrible suffering with true Christian patience," one of his biographers
tells us. To those who asked about his condition, his invariable answer
was, that all was well with him. If anyone expressed sympathy with him,
he usually smiled and said that "it could not be expected that the two
old friends, soul and body, should part from each other without pain."
When someone prayed or sang for him he followed him eagerly, expressing
his interest with his eyes, hands and whole being.
A week before his death he called the members of his family to his bed,
shared the Holy Communion with them and thanked them and especially his
wife, for their great kindness to him during his illness. On October 13,
a Saturday, he slept throughout the day, but awoke in the evening and
exclaimed: "Lord God, tomorrow we shall hear wonderful music!" And on the
morning of October 14, 1703, just as the great bells of the cathedral of
St. Knud called people to the service, his soul departed peacefully to
join the Church above. God had heard at last the earnest prayer of his
own great hymns:
But, O Jesus, I am crying:
Help that faith, on Thee relying,
Over sin and sorrow may
Ever rise and win the day.
His body was laid to rest in a small village church a few miles outside
of Odense. There one still may see the stone of his tomb, bearing an
inscription that likens him to a sun which, although it has set, still
lights the way for all true lovers of virtue. Other monuments to his
memory have been raised at Slangerup, Odense and other places. But his
finest and most lasting memorials are his own great hymns. In these his
warm, passionate spirit still speaks to a larger audience than he ever
reached in his own day. The years have served only to emphasize the truth
of Grundtvig's beautiful epitaph to him on his monument at Odense:
Thomas Kingo is the psalmist
Of the Danish temple choir.
This his people will remember
Long as song their hearts inspire.