Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig

Grundtvig never consciously revealed his true sentiment to Constance

Leth. At the cost of an intense struggle, he managed outwardly to

maintain his code of honorable conduct. But he still felt humbled and

shaken by his inability to suppress his inner and as he saw it guilty

passion. And under this blow to his proud self-sufficiency, he felt,

perhaps for the first time in his life, the need for a power greater than

his own. "To win in this struggle," he wrote in his diary, "lies beyond

my own power. I must look for help from above or sink as the stone sinks

while the lightly floating leaves mock it and wonder why it cannot float

as they do."

The struggle against his passion engendered a need for work. "In order to

quiet the storm within me," he writes, "I forced my mind to occupy itself

with the most difficult labor." Although he had paid small attention to

the suggestion at the time, he now remembered and began to read some of

the authors Steffens had recommended in his lectures: Goethe, Schiller,

Schelling, Fichte, Shakespeare and others. He also studied the work of

newer Danish writers, such as Prof. Jens Moeller, a writer on Northern

mythology, and Adam Oehlenschlaeger, a young man who, inspired by

Steffens, was becoming the foremost dramatic poet of Denmark. He even

renewed the study of his long neglected Bible. The motive of his

extensive reading was, no doubt, ethical rather than esthetic, a search

for that outside power of which the battle within him revealed his urgent

need. Thus he wrote:

My spirit opened its eyes,

Saw itself on the brink of the abyss,

Searched with trembling and fear

Everywhere for a power to save,

And found God in all things,

Found Him in the songs of the poets,

Found Him in the work of the sages,

Found Him in the myths of the North,

Found Him in the records of history,

But clearest of all it still

Found Him in the Book of Books.

The fate that appears to crush a man may also exalt him. And so it was

with Grundtvig. His suffering crushed the stony shell of cynical

indifference in which he had long enclosed his naturally warm and

impetuous spirit and released the great latent forces within him. In the

midst of his struggle, new ideas germinated springlike in his mind. He

read, thought and wrote, especially on the subject that was always near

to his heart, the mythology and early traditions of the Northern peoples.

And after three years of struggle, he was at last ready to break away

from Egelykke. If he had not yet conquered his passion, he had so far

mastered it that he could aspire to other things.

Thus ended what a modern Danish writer, Skovgaard-Petersen, calls "the

finest love story in Danish history." The event had caused Grundtvig much

pain, but it left no festering wounds. His firm refusal to permit his

passion to sully himself or degrade the woman he loved had, on the

contrary, made it one of the greatest incitations to good in his whole

life.

On his return to Copenhagen Grundtvig almost at once obtained a position

as teacher in history at Borch's Collegium for boys. His new position

satisfied him eminently by affording him a chance to work with his

favorite subject and to expand his other intellectual interests. He soon

made friends with a number of promising young intellectuals who, in turn,

introduced him to some of the outstanding intellectual and literary

lights of the country, and within a short while the list of his

acquaintances read like a Blue Book of the city's intelligentsia.

Although Grundtvig was still quite unknown except for a few articles in a

current magazine, there was something about him, an originality of view,

an arresting way of phrasing his thoughts, a quiet sense of humor, that

commanded attention. His young friends willingly acknowledged his

leadership, and the older watched him with expectation. Nor were they

disappointed. His _Northern Mythology_ appeared in 1808, and _Episodes

from the Decay of Northern Heroism_ only a year later. And these

strikingly original and finely written works immediately established his

reputation as one of the foremost writers of Denmark. There were even

those who in their enthusiasm compared him with the revered

Oehlenschlaeger. A satirical poem, "The Masquerade Ball of Denmark,"

inspired by the frivolous indifference with which many people had reacted

to the English bombardment of Copenhagen in 1807, showed his power of

burning scorn and biting satire.

In the midst of this success and the preparation of plans for new and

more ambitious works, Grundtvig received a request from his old father to

come home and assist him with his parish work. The request was not at all

pleasing to him. His personal attitude toward Christianity was still

uncertain, and his removal from the capital would interfere with his

literary career. But as the wish of his good parents could not be

ignored, he reluctantly applied for ordination and began to prepare his

probation sermon.

This now famous sermon was delivered before the proper officials March

17, 1810. Knowing that few besides the censors would be present to hear

him and feeling that an ordinary sermon would be out of place before such

an audience, Grundtvig prepared his sermon as an historical survey of the

present state of the church rather than as an Evangelical discourse.

His study of history had convinced him of the mighty influence

Christianity had once exerted upon the nations, and he, therefore, posed

the question why this influence was now in decline. "Are the glad

tidings," he asked, "which through seventeen hundred years passed from

confessing lips to listening ears still not preached?" And the answer is

"no". Even the very name of Jesus is now without significance and worth

to most people of the younger generation, "for the Word of God has

departed from His house and that which is preached there is not the Word

of God, but the earth-bound speculations of men. The holy men of old

believed in the message they were called to preach, but the human spirit

has now become so proud that it feels itself capable of discovering the

truth without the light of the Gospel, and so faith has died. My

Brethren!" he exclaims, "Let us not, if we share this blindness and

contempt for the heavenly light, be false and shameless enough to

desecrate the Holy Place by appearing there as preachers of a

Christianity in which we ourselves do not believe!"

The sermon was delivered with much force and eloquence. Grundtvig felt

himself stirred by the strength of his own argument; and a comparison of

the warm devotional spirit of a church service, as he remembered it from

his childhood, with the cold indifference of later days moved him to

sentimental tears, the first pious tears that he had shed for many years,

he said later. Even the censors were so impressed that they unanimously

awarded him the mark of excellent, a generosity they bitterly regretted a

few weeks later. For Grundtvig, contrary to his promise--as the censors

asserted but Grundtvig denied--published his sermon. And it was warmly

received by the Evangelicals as the first manna that had fallen in a

desert for many years. But the Rationalists violently condemned it and

presented the Committee on Church Affairs with an indignant protest

against its author "for having grossly insulted the Danish clergy."

Considering the enthusiastic approval the sermon had received in various

quarters, the committee would gladly have squashed the complaint. But the

complainers, comprising many of the most influential pastors in the city,

were too powerful to be ignored. And so Grundtvig was found guilty "of

having willfully insulted the Danish clergy, both individually and as a

body," and sentenced to receive a reprimand by the dean of the

theological faculty.

When Grundtvig on January 11, 1811, presented himself before the dean to

receive his reprimand, he looked so pale and shaken that even the worthy

official took compassion upon him and advised him privately that he must

not take his sentence too seriously. It was not, however, the stern

reprimand of the dean but an experience of far greater consequence that

so visibly blanched the cheeks of the defendant.

The prospect of entering the active ministry caused Grundtvig to examine

seriously his own attitude toward Christianity. And although the bishop

vetoed his assignment to Udby and thus released him from the immediate

prospect of entering the pulpit, this did not stop the trend of his

thoughts. He had lost his former indifference toward religion and

discovered the historical significance of Christianity, but just what did

the Christian faith mean to him personally?

He was still pondering this question, when in the fall of 1810, he

commenced a study of the Crusades, "the heroic age of Christianity," as

one historian called the period. The phrase appealed to him. He had

lately wandered through the mystic halls of Northern gods and heroes and

deplored the decay of their heroic spirit. He admired the heroic, and his

heart still wavered between the mighty Wodin and the meek and lowly

Christ. But the heroic age of Christianity--was it possible then that

Christianity too could rise to the heroic?

In the course of his study he read _The Early History of Prussia_ by A.

von Kotzebue in which the author, after ridiculing "the missionary zeal

that, like a fire on the steppes, caught the kings of Poland and

Scandinavia and moved them to frantic efforts for the conversion of

neighboring peoples," proudly stated, "But while her neighbors all

accepted Christianity and the withered cross drew steadily nearer to the

green oak, Prussia remained faithful to her ancient gods."

"The withered Cross!" The words stung Grundtvig to the quick. He hurled

the book away, sprang up and stormed about the room, vowing that he would

henceforth dedicate his life to the cause of the spurned emblem.

A few weeks of restless exaltation followed. He read his Bible, studied

Luther's catechism and pondered the ways and means of accomplishing a

reform of his church, especially a reform inspired by pen and ink. But

his _New Year's Night_, a small book published during this period, shows

his still troublesome uncertainty, his constant wavering between the old

gods and the Christ of the Gospels, between various degrees of

Rationalism and a full acceptance of the mystery of the cross. In a

mighty hymn of praise to the suffering Savior, he wrote many years later:

"Yes, my heart believes the wonder of Thy cross, which ages ponder"--but

he had yet to pass through the depths before he could say that. Even so,

he now exultingly wrote: "On the rim of the bottomless abyss toward which

our age is blindly hastening, I will stand and confront it with a

picture, illumined by two shining lights, the Word of God, and the

testimony of history. As long as God gives me strength to lift up my

voice, I will call and admonish my people in His name."

But from this pinnacle of proud exultation, he was suddenly hurled into

the abyss when, like a bolt of lightning, the thought struck him: But are

you yourself a Christian, have you received the forgiveness of your sin?

"It struck me like a hammer, crashing the rock," he said later, "what the

Lord tells the ungodly: 'What hast thou to declare my statutes or that

thou shouldest take my covenant into thy mouth, seeing that thou hatest

my instruction and castest my word behind thee!'" Gone like a dream were

now all his proud fancies. Only one thought filled his whole being--to

obtain the forgiveness of his sin and the assurance of God's grace. But

so violent became his struggle that his mind at times reeled on the brink

of insanity. His young friends stood loyally by him, comforting and

guarding him as far as they could. And when it became clear that he must

be removed from the noise of the city, one of them, F. Sibbern,

volunteered to take him home. There his old parents received him with

understanding, even rejoicing that anxiety for his soul and not other

things had so disturbed his mind.

The peace of the quiet countryside, the understanding care of his parents

and the soothing influence of their firm Evangelical faith acted as a

balm to Grundtvig's struggling spirit. He loved to enter the old church

of his childhood, to hear his father preach, or sit alone before the

altar in meditation and prayer. And there before the altar of the church

in which he had been baptized and confirmed, he at last found peace, the

true peace of God that passeth all understanding.

After the great change in his life, Grundtvig now wished most heartily to

become his father's assistant. The elder Grundtvig had already forwarded

his resignation from the pastorate but was more than happy to apply for

its return and for the appointment of his son as his assistant. And so,

Grundtvig was ordained at Copenhagen, May 11, 1811, and installed at Udby

a few days later. He was back again in the old church of his childhood.

Chapter Twelve

The Lonely Defender of the Bible

Grundtvig began his work at Udby with all the zeal of a new convert. He

ministered to young and old, spent himself in work for the sick and the

poor, and preached the Gospel with a fervor that was new, not only to the

people of Udby, but to most people of that generation. If other things

had not intervened, like his father, he might have spent his life as a

successful country pastor. But his father died January 5, 1813. The

authorities refused to confirm Grundtvig in the vacant charge, and he and

his mother, shortly afterward, were compelled to leave the parsonage that

had been their home for more than forty years. His mother settled in

Prastoe, a small city a few miles from Udby, and Grundtvig returned to

Copenhagen to search for a new position, a task that this time proved

both long and painful.

Among available positions, Grundtvig especially coveted a professorship

in history at the newly founded university of Oslo, Norway, at which

three of his friends, S. B. Hersleb, Niels Trechow and George Sverdrup,

had already obtained employment. But although these friends worked

zealously for his appointment, even after the separation of Norway from

Denmark, their efforts were fruitless. Grundtvig was not destined to

leave his native land. Nor were his attempts to secure other work

successful. In spite of the fact that he applied for almost every vacancy

in the church, even the smallest, his powerful enemies among the

Rationalists were influential enough to prevent his appointment to any of

them.

Meanwhile he was by no means idle. Following his conversion, he felt for

a time like a man suddenly emerging from darkness into the brightness of

a new day. Old things had passed away, but the brilliance of the new

light confused him. What could he do? How many of his former interests

were reconcilable with his new views? Could he, for instance, continue

his writings? "When my eyes were opened," he writes, "I considered all

things not directly concerned with God a hindrance to the blessed

knowledge of my Lord, Jesus Christ." After a time he saw, however, that

his ability to write might be accepted as a gift from God to be used in

His service. "The poet when inspired," he says, "may proclaim a message

from above to the world below," and so, "after dedicating it to Himself,

the Lord again handed me the harp that I had placed upon His altar."

During his brief stay at Udby, Grundtvig published three larger works:

_Episodes from the Battle between Ases and Norns_, _Saga_ and _A New

Year's Gift for 1812_.[9] The first of these was nearly completed before

his conversion, and as he now reread the manuscript, its content almost

shocked him. Was it possible that he had felt and written thus only a few

months ago! He thought of destroying the work but decided to recast it in

conformity with his present views and to express these clearly in a

preface. With the completion of this task, however, he took a long leave

from the "ice-cold giants of the North" that had so long engrossed his

attention.

After his brief visit with the heroes of the past, Grundtvig again turned

his attention to their descendants in the present. And the contrast was

almost startling. The war still was dragging on and the country sinking

deeper and deeper into the morass of political, commercial and economic

difficulties. But the majority of the people seemed completely

indifferent to her plight. "They talked of nothing," Grundtvig says, "but

of what they had eaten, worn and amused themselves with yesterday, or

what they would eat, wear and amuse themselves with tomorrow." Was it

possible that these people could be descendants of the giants whose valor

and aggressive spirit had once challenged the greater part of Europe?

Grundtvig was convinced that the spiritual apathy of his people resulted

from the failure of their spiritual leaders to uphold the Evangelical

faith, and that the salvation of the nation depended on a true revival of

Evangelical Christianity. For this reason he now exerted every means at

his command to induce the people and, especially, their leaders to return

to the old paths. In numerous works, both in verse and in prose, he urged

the people to renew the faith of their fathers and challenged their

leaders to take a definite stand for Biblical Christianity. He became the

lonely defender of the Bible.

Among outstanding personalities of that day, there were especially two

that attracted widespread attention: J. P. Mynster, assistant pastor at

the Church of Our Lady in Copenhagen, and Adam Gottlieb Oehlenschlaeger,

the dramatic poet, then at the height of his fame. With their influence

these men, as Grundtvig saw it, might give a strong impetus to the much

needed awakening; and, he therefore, approached them personally.

Rev. Mynster, a stepson of Grundtvig's maternal uncle, after a period of

rationalism, had experienced a quiet conversion to Evangelical faith and

won a respected name as a faithful and gifted preacher of the Gospel, a

name which he retained throughout his conspicuous career as pastor of the

Church of Our Lady in Copenhagen and, later, as Bishop of Sjaelland. He

and Grundtvig, working to the same purpose, ought to have united with

another, but they were both too individualistic in temperament and views

to join forces. Mynster was coldly logical, calm and reserved, a lover of

form and orderly progress. Grundtvig was impetuous, and volcanic, in

constant ferment, always in search of spiritual reality and wholly

indifferent to outward appearances. His own experience had led him to

believe that a return to Evangelical Christianity could be effected only

through a clean break with Rationalism, and he could not understand

Mynster's apparent attempt to temporize and bring about a gradual

transition from one to the other. There should be no compromise between

truth and falsehood. All believers in the Gospel should stand up and

proclaim it fearlessly, no matter what the consequences.

And so Grundtvig wrote to Mynster: "Dear Rev. Mynster, I owe you an

apology for asking a question that in our days may appear inexcusable:

What is your real belief regarding the Bible and the faith of Jesus

Christ? If you humbly believe in God's Word, I shall rejoice with you

even if you differ with me in all other things. Dear Rev. Mynster--for

you are that to me--if my question appears unseemly, you must not let it

hurt you, for I have written only as my heart dictates." But Mynster did

feel offended and answered Grundtvig very coldly that his questions

implied an unwarranted and offensive doubt of his sincerity that must

make future intercourse between them difficult--if not impossible.

Nor was Grundtvig more successful with a letter of similar purport to

Oehlenschlaeger whose later writings he found lacked the spiritual

sincerity of his earlier work. "My concern about this," he wrote, "is

increased by the thought that this lessening of spirituality must be

expressive of a change in your own spiritual outlook, your inner

relationship with God whom all spiritual workers should serve, counting

it a greater achievement to inspire their fellow men with a true

adoration of our Lord than to win the acclaim of the world." But like

Mynster the highly feted poet accepted this frank questioning of his

inner motive as an unwarranted impertinence, the stupid intrusion of an

intolerable fanatic with whom no friend of true enlightenment could have

anything to do. Grundtvig was fast finding out what it means to be

counted a fool for Christ's sake--or for what he thought was Christ's

sake.

In the midst of these troubles Grundtvig again turned his attention to

history, his favorite subject from childhood days. His retreat from the

present to the past implied no abolition, however, of his resolve to

dedicate himself to a spiritual revival of his people. Through his

historical work he wished to show the influence of Christianity upon the

people of Europe. "That the life of every people," he writes, "is and

must be a fruit of faith should be clear to all. For who can dispute that

every human action--irrespective of how little considered it may have

been--is expressive of its doer's attitude, of his way of feeling and

thinking. But what determines a man's way of thinking except his

essential thoughts concerning the relationship between God and the world,

the visible and the invisible? Every serious thinker, therefore, must

recognize the importance of faith in the furtherance of science, the

progress of nations and the life of the state. It is a fearful delusion

that man can be immoral, an unbeliever, even an enemy of the cross of

Christ, and yet a furtherer of morality and science, a good neighbor and

a benefactor to his country."

_A Brief Survey of the World's History_, which Grundtvig published in

1812, is thus the opposite of an objective presentation of historical

events. It is a Christian philosophy of history, an attempt to prove the

truth of the Gospel by its effect upon the nations. With the Bible before

him Grundtvig weighs and evaluates people and events upon the scale of

the revealed word. And his judgment is often relentless, stripping both

persons and events of the glorified robes in which history and traditions

invested them. In answer to countless protests against such a method of

reading history, Grundtvig contends that the Christian historian must

accept the consequences of his faith. He cannot profess the truth of

Christianity and ignore its implication in the life of the world. If the

Gospel be true, history must be measured by its relation to its truth.

Grundtvig's history caused a sensation, especially on account of its

frank appraisal of many well-known persons. Nearly all praised its lucid

style; a few, such as George Sverdrup, spoke highly of its strikingly

original estimate and correlation of events; but the intelligentsia

condemned it as the work of an impossible fanatic. With this work, they

claimed, Grundtvig had clearly removed himself from the pale of

intelligent men.

But while his enemies raged, Grundtvig was already busy with another

work: _A Brief Account of God's Way with the Danish and Norwegian

Peoples_. This history which, written in verse and later published under

the title of _Roskilde Rhymes_, was first read at a diocesan convention

in Roskilde Cathedral, the Westminster Abbey of Denmark. Although the

poem contained many urgent calls to the assembled pastors to awake and

return to the way of the fathers, whose bones rested within the walls of

the historic sanctuary, its reading caused no immediate resentment. Most

of the reverend listeners are reported, in fact, to have been peacefully

asleep when late in the evening Grundtvig finished the reading of his

lengthy manuscript. But a paper on "Polemics and Tolerance" which he read

at another convention two years later kept his listeners wide awake.

"Our day has inherited two shibboleths from the eighteenth century:

enlightenment and tolerance. By the last of these words most people

understand an attitude of superior neutrality toward the opinions of

others, even when these opinions concern the highest spiritual welfare of

man. Such an attitude has for its premise that good and evil, truth and

falsehood are not separate and irreconcilable realities but only

different phases of the same question. But every Christian, thoroughly

convinced of the antagonism and irreconcilability of truth with

falsehood, must inevitably hate and reject such a supposition. If

Christianity be true, tolerance toward opinions and teachings denying its

truth is nothing but a craven betrayal of both God and man. It is

written, 'Judge and condemn no one' but not 'Judge and condemn nothing.'

For every Christian must surely both judge and condemn evil.

"There are times when to fight for Christianity may not be an urgent

necessity; but that cannot be so in our days when every one of its divine

truths is mocked and assailed.

"You call me a self-seeking fanatic, but if I be that, why are you

yourself silent? If I be misleading those who follow me, why are you, the

true watchmen of Zion, not exerting yourself to lead them aright? I stand

here the humblest of Danish pastors, a minister without a pulpit, a man

reviled by the world, shorn of my reputation as a writer, and held to be

devoid of all intelligence and truth. Even so I solemnly declare that the

religion now preached in our Danish church is not Christianity, is

nothing but a tissue of deception and falsehood, and that unless Danish

pastors bestir themselves and fight for the restoration of God's word and

the Christian faith there will soon be no Christian church in Denmark."

The immediate effect of this bold challenge was a stern reprimand from

Bishop Frederik Munter, accompanied by a solemn warning that if he ever

again ventured to voice a similar judgment upon his fellow pastors,

sterner measures would at once be taken against him. Besides this, his

enemies raved, some of his few remaining friends broke with him, and H.

C. Oersted, the famous discoverer of electro-magnetism, continued an

attack upon him that for bitterness has no counterpart in Danish letters.

In the midst of this storm Grundtvig remained self-possessed, answering

his critic quite calmly and even with a touch of humor. Although

relentless in a fight for principles, he was never vindictive toward his

personal enemies. In 1815, he published a collection of poems,

_Kvaedlinger_, in which he asks, "Who knoweth of peace who never has

fought, whoso has been saved and suffered naught?" And these lines no

doubt express his personal attitude toward the battles of life.

Being without a pulpit of his own, Grundtvig, after his return to

Copenhagen, frequently accepted invitations to preach for other pastors.

But as the opposition against him grew, these invitations decreased and,

after the Roskilde affair, only one church, the church of Frederiksberg,

was still open to him. Grundtvig felt his exclusion very keenly, but he

knew that even friendly pastors hesitated to invite him for fear of

incurring the disapproval of superiors or the displeasure of influential

parishioners. And so, at the close of a Christmas service in the

Frederiksberg church in 1815, he solemnly announced that he would not

enter a pulpit again until he had been duly appointed to do so by the

proper authorities.

Grundtvig's withdrawal from the church, though pleasing to his active

enemies, was a great disappointment to his friends. His services had

always been well attended, and his earnest message had brought comfort to

many, especially among the distressed Evangelicals. But others, too, felt

the power of his word. Thus a man in Copenhagen, after attending one of

his services, wrote to a friend, "that he had laughed at the beginning of

the sermon and wept at its conclusion" and that "it was the only earnest

testimony he had ever heard from a pulpit." And a reporter writing to a

Copenhagen newspaper about his last service said, "Our famous Grundtvig

preached yesterday at Frederiksberg church to such a crowd of people that

the church was much too small to accommodate them. Here were people from

all walks of life, and the speaker, we are convinced, stirred them to the

bottom of their souls. Here was a Mynster's clarity, a Fallesen's

earnestness, and a Balle's appeal united with a Nordahl Brun's manliness

and admirable language." And this about a man for whom his church had no

room!

Thus Grundtvig instead of the friendly co-operation he had hoped for

especially from the spiritual and intellectual leaders of the people

found himself virtually shut out from the circle to which he naturally

belonged, and from the church he loved, perhaps better than any man of

his generation.

But if his hope of enlisting the leaders in a campaign to revive the

spiritual life of the common people had been disappointed, his own

determination to devote his life to that purpose remained unshaken. If he

could look for no help from the recognized leaders of his nation, he must

somehow gain a hearing from the common people themselves. His personal

contact with these, however, was rather slight. Except for his brief work

as a pastor, he had so far spent the greater part of his life in

intellectual pursuits quite removed from the interest of the common man.

And the question was then how he, a man without any special position and

influence, could reach the ears of his countrymen.

In searching for an answer to this question, he remembered the two things

that most profoundly had influenced his own spiritual outlook, his study

of the traditions and history of his people, and his religious awakening

in 1810. Was it not possible then that a like change might be engendered

in others by presenting them with a picture of their own glorious past

or, as his friend Ingemann later expressed it, by calling forth the

generations that died to testify against the generation that lived? In

presenting such a picture he would not have to rely on his own

inventiveness but could use material already existing, foremost among

which were the famous _Sagas of Norwegian Kings_ by Snorra Sturlason, and

_Denmark's Chronicle_ by Saxo Grammaticus, the former written in

Icelandic, and the latter in Latin.

When Grundtvig presented this plan to his remaining friends, they

received it at once with enthusiasm and began the organization of

societies both in Denmark and Norway for the purpose of sponsoring its

execution, in itself a most herculean task.

The two books contain together about fifteen hundred large and closely

printed pages and present a circumstantial account of the early

mythological and factual history of the two nations. Even a merely

literal translation of them might well consume years of labor. But

Grundtvig's plan went much farther than mere literal translation. Wishing

to appeal to the common people, he purposed to popularize the books and

to transcribe them in a purer and more idiomatic Danish than the accepted

literary language of the day, a Danish to be based on the dialects of the

common people, the folk-songs, popular proverbs, and the old hymns. It

was a bold undertaking, comparable to the work of Luther in modelling the

language of the German Bible after the speech of the man in the street

and the mother at the cradle, or to the great effort of Norway in our

days to supplant the Danish-Norwegian tongue with a language from the

various dialects of her people. Nor can it be said that Grundtvig was

immediately successful in his attempt. His version of the sagas sounds

somewhat stilted and artificial, and it never became popular among the

common people for whom it was especially intended. Eventually, however,

he did develop his new style into a plain, forceful mode of expression

that has greatly enriched the Danish language of today.

For seven years Grundtvig buried himself in "the giant's mount," emerging

only occasionally for the pursuit of various studies in connection with

his work or to voice his views on certain issues that particularly

interested him. He discovered a number of errors in the Icelandic version

of Beowulf and made a new Danish translation of that important work; he

engaged in a bitter literary battle with Paul Mueller, a leader among the

younger academicians, in defence of the celebrated lyric poet, Jens

Baggesen, who had aroused the wrath of the students by criticising their

revered dramatist, Oehlenschlaeger; and he fought a furious contest with

the greatly admired song and comedy writer, John L. Heiberg, in defence

of his good friend, Bernhard Severin Ingemann, whose excellent but overly

sentimental lyrics had invited the barbed wit of the humorist. But

although Grundtvig's contributions to these disputes were both able and

pointed, their main effect was to widen the breach between him and the

already antagonistic intellectuals.

In 1817 Grundtvig published the second part of _World Chronicles_, and a

few issues of a short-lived periodical entitled "Dannevirke" which among

other excellent contributions presented his splendid poem, "The Easter

Lily," a poetic dramatization of our Lord's resurrection, about which the

poet, Baggesen, said that "it outweighed all Oehlenschlaeger's tragedies

and that he himself had moments when he would rather have been the author

of this incomparably beautiful poem than of everything he himself had

written."

Grundtvig began his translation of the sagas on a wave of high

enthusiasm. But as the years multiplied, the interest of his supporters

waned and he himself wearied of the task. He began, besides, to doubt his

ability to resurrect the heroic dead in such a manner that they could

revive the dropping spirit of the living.

In a welcome to Ingemann, on his return from a tour abroad, he expresses

the hope that the poet will now devote his gifts to a reincarnation of

his country's old heroes. He himself has tried to do this. "He has made

armor, shields and swords for them of saga's steel, and borrowed horses

for them from the ancient bards, but he has no cloth fit for the coats of

such elegant knights nor feathers beautiful enough to adorn their

helmets. He can sound a challenge but has no voice for singing; he can

ring a bell but can not play the lute." In other words, he can depict the

thoughts and ideals of the old heroes but lacks the poetical ability to

recreate them as living personalities--a remarkably true estimate of his

own limitations.

The discovery that his translation of the sagas was not accomplishing its

intended purpose, and a growing apprehension that the written word was,

perhaps, impotent to revive the spiritual life of his people, engendered

in him an increasing wish to leave "the mount of the dead" and re-enter

the world of the living. His economic circumstances also necessitated a

change. In 1818 he had married Elizabeth Blicher, the daughter of a

brother pastor, and he found it well nigh impossible to support his wife

and growing family on the meager returns from his writings and a small

pension which the government allowed him for his work with the sagas.

Spurred by these reasons, he applied for almost every vacancy in the

church, even the smallest, and, in 1821, succeeded in obtaining an

appointment to the pastorate at Prastoe, a small city on the south-eastern

shores of Sjaelland.

Grundtvig was well satisfied with his new charge. He was kindly received

by his congregation; the city was quite close to his beloved Udby, and

his mother still lived there. "In the loveliest surroundings my eyes have

ever seen and among a friendly people," he writes, "my strength soon

revived so that I could continue my literary work and even complete my

wearisome translation of the sagas."

An incident is related from his work at Prastoe which throws a somewhat

revealing light upon his ability as a pastor. At his only confirmation

service there, the confirmants, we are told, wept so that he had to pause

several times in his address to them in order to let them regain their

composure. Since he was always quite objective in his preaching and

heartily disbelieved in the usual revival methods, the incident

illustrates his rare ability to profoundly stir even the less mature of

his hearers by his objective presentation of the Gospel. Even his

bitterest enemies could not deny the evident effectiveness of his

ministry in every charge he served.

His work at Prastoe was, however, of brief duration. In 1822, less than

two years after his installation, he received and accepted a call as

assistant pastor at Our Savior's Church in Copenhagen, thus attaining his

long deferred wish for a pulpit in the capital.

----------

[9]The printed text is corrupt here. _Saga: A New Year's Gift for 1812_

is one work. Possibly the third work referenced is _World Chronicles_,

the first part of which was published in 1812.

Chapter Thirteen

The Living Word

Grundtvig began his ministry in the capital with high hopes, but he was

soon disappointed. His services as usual attracted large audiences,

audiences that frequently overflowed the spacious sanctuary. But these

came from all parts of the city, an ever changing throng from which it

was quite impossible to create a real congregation. The parish itself was

so large that the mere routine duties of his office consumed much of his

time. There were mass weddings, mass baptisms, mass funerals for people

of whom he knew little and could have no assurance that he was not

"giving the holy unto dogs or casting pearls before swine." With the

prevailing decay of church-life most pastors accepted these conditions

with equanimity, but to Grundtvig they constituted an increasingly heavy

burden.

He was still lonely. Awakened Christians were few, and his fellow pastors

were nearly all Rationalists who looked upon him as a dangerous fanatic

whom it was best to avoid. Grundtvig's opinion about them, though

different, was scarcely higher. It provoked him to observe pastors openly

repudiating doctrines and ordinances which they had sworn to defend. To

his mind such a course was both dishonorable to themselves and unjust

toward their congregations which, whether or not they approved of these

unlawful acts, had to be served by their parish pastors. The majority, it

is true, accepted the new doctrines with indifference. Rationalism then

as now promoted apathy rather than heresy. But Grundtvig observed its

blighting effect everywhere, even upon himself.

Signs of a new awakening, nevertheless, were appearing here and there,

especially in certain rural communities. Influenced by the Haugean

movement in Norway and Grundtvig's own earlier work, scattering groups of

Evangelicals and Pietists began to evince new life and activity. Peasants

in a number of parishes in Jutland refused to accept the Evangelical

Christian hymnal and a new rationalistic colored catechism, choosing to

go to jail rather than to compromise their faith; and groups of

Evangelical laymen on the island of Fyn began to hold private assemblies

at which they nourished themselves by reading Luther's sermons and

singing Kingo's and Brorson's hymns. Most if not all of these groups

admired Grundtvig for his bold defiance of Biblical Christianity and

looked hopefully to him for encouragement. If, as his enemies charged, he

had wished to make himself the head of a party, he could easily have done

so by assuming the leadership of the private assemblies.

But Grundtvig never compromised his views for the sake of attracting a

following, and he did not approve of private assemblies. Such groups, he

wrote, had frequently disrupted the church, bred contempt for Scripture,

and fostered a perverted form of piety. Even as a release from the

present deplorable situation, they might easily produce more harm than

good.

Although Grundtvig could not approve of the assemblies he, nevertheless,

sympathized deeply with the distressed laity. A layman was then bound to

his parish, and Grundtvig clearly understood the difficulty of laymen who

had to accept the ministry, have their children baptized, instructed and

confirmed by pastors denying fundamental doctrines of their faith. With

his usual frankness he therefore threw caution to the winds and reminded

the pastors that it was their own failure to preach and defend the

Lutheran faith that was forcing Evangelical laymen to seek in the

assemblies what was arbitrarily withheld from them in the church.

"Whether it be good or bad, recommendable or deplorable," Grundtvig

wrote, "it is, at any rate, a fact that the spirit of the church service

has changed so greatly during the last half century that it is almost

impossible for an Evangelical Christian to derive any benefit from it,

and it is this situation that has forced earnest laymen to invent such a

substitute for the church as the private assemblies evidently are."

For a number of years Grundtvig thought and wrote almost ceaselessly

about this problem. With conditions so perverted that the lawbreakers

were imprisoning the victims of their own lawlessness, something ought

evidently to be done about it. But what could he do?

He tried to attack Rationalism from new angles. In a carefully written

article in "The Theological Monthly," a magazine that he published in

collaboration with the learned but crusty Dr. G. A. Rudelbach, he argued

that any inquiry concerning the nature of Christianity should distinguish

between the questions: What is true Christianity? and Is Christianity

True? The first was a historical question, and could be answered only by

an examination of the original teachings of Christianity; the second was

a question of conscience and depended on the attitude of the individual.

He was he asserted, perfectly willing to recognize the right of the

Rationalists to believe what ever they choose, but as a historian he had

to protest against the propagation of any belief under the name of

Christianity that clearly denied what Christianity originally affirmed.

His writing, however, produced no evident result. The rationalists either

maintained a contemptuous silence or answered him by their favorite cry

of ignorance and fanaticism. The true teachings of Christianity, they

asserted, could be ascertained only by the trained theologian, able to

read the Bible in the original and trained to interpret it in the light

of current knowledge. Such men knew, it was claimed, that many of the

doctrines formerly held by the church, such as the divinity of Christ,

the atonement and the triunity of God, were not found in the Scriptures

at all or were based on misread or misinterpreted texts.

Although these contentions were almost as old as Christianity itself,

Grundtvig still found that a clear refutation of them was practically

impossible. He could not disprove them by Scripture, for the Rationalists

would claim their interpretation of the Bible to be as trustworthy as his

own; nor could he appeal to the confessions, for his opponents openly

repudiated these as antiquated conceptions of a less enlightened age. His

only hope of giving any real guidance to the confused and distressed

laity of his church thus appeared to depend on the possibility of

discovering an expression of Christianity so authoritative that the most

learned perverter of the faith could not repudiate it and so plain that

the humblest believer could understand it. In his anxiety it even seemed

to him that the Lord had failed adequately to provide for His little ones

if He had not supplied them with such a shield against the storm of

confusing doctrines.

"Being greatly distressed with the thought that all humble Christians

must either fall into doubt concerning their only Savior and His Gospel

or build their faith on the contradictory teachings of learned

theologians," he wrote, "I perceived clearly the pressing need of the

church for a simpler, more dependable and authoritative statement of that

word of God which shall never pass away than all the book-worms of the

world could ever produce. But while my anxiety for the distressed laity

of my church grew and I sought night and day for a clear testimony of

Jesus that would enable them to try the spirits whether they be of God, a

good angel whispered to me: 'Why seekest thou the living among the dead?'

Then the scales fell from my eyes, and I saw clearly that the word of God

which I so anxiously sought could be no other than that which at all

times, in all churches and by all Christians has been accepted as a true

expression of their faith and the covenant of their baptism, the

Apostolic Creed."

In his search for an effective means of arming the laity against the

confusing claims of the Rationalists, Grundtvig thus came to place the

Creed above the Bible, or rather to assert that the two should stand side

by side, and that all explanations of the latter should agree with the

plain articles of the former so that every Christian personally could

weigh the truth or error of what was taught by comparing it with his

baptismal covenant.

Grundtvig supported his "great discovery" with passages from the Bible

and the church fathers, especially Irenaeus. He advanced the theory that

Jesus had taught the Creed to His disciples during the forty days after

His resurrection in which He remained with them, "speaking of the things

pertaining to the kingdom of God"; that the Creed through the early

centuries had been regarded as too sacred to commit to writing and,

therefore had been transmitted orally; and that it constituted, together

with the words of institution of the sacraments and the Lord's prayer, in

a special sense "the living word of God" by which He builds and vivifies

His church. It should be stated, however, that Grundtvig's intention by

distinguishing between what he called "the living" and "the written

word," was not to belittle the Bible but only to define its proper place,

the place of enlightening and guiding those, who through God's living

covenant with them in their baptism already have become Christians. A

Christian, he believed, is reborn in his baptism, nourished in the

Communion and enlightened by the Word.

A critical examination of Grundtvig's theory, about which thousands of

pages have been written, lies beyond the scope of this work. Grundtvig

himself felt that his "discovery" had given him a solid foundation for

his stand against the Rationalists. And his theory unquestionably did

enable him, in the midst of an almost hopeless religious confusion, to

reassert the essentials of Evangelical Christianity, to refute the

contentions of the Rationalists by weighing them on an acknowledged

historical basis of faith, and to reemphasize that the Christian church

is not a creation of theological speculations but of God's own work in

His word and sacraments.

Grundtvig for some time previous to his discovery had felt exceedingly

depressed. His long struggle for the reawakening of his people to a

richer Christian and national life appeared fruitless. Most of the

intellectual and spiritual leaders of his time looked upon the very idea

of sharing the richer cultural and spiritual values of life with the

common man as a visionary conception of an unstable and erratic mind. One

ought naturally, they admitted, to be interested in improving the social

and economic conditions of the lower classes, but the higher treasures of

mind and spirit belonged in the very nature of things to the cultured few

and could not be shared with the common herd.

In spite of these discouragements, Grundtvig somehow experienced a

wonderful rebirth of his hope in the spring of 1824, an experience to

which he gave eloquent expression in his great poem, "New Year's

Morning." He writes in the preface that he has "long enough battled with

a witch called indifference, and has discovered that the battle wherein

one is most likely to be defeated is the battle against nothing." He

therefore urges his friends to ignore the witch and join him in a

determined crusade for a reawakening of the Northern spirit to the

accomplishment of Christian deed.

Grundtvig's hope for a season of quiet and peaceful cooperation with his

friends was, however, soon shattered. In the summer of 1825, a young

professor of theology, H. N. Clausen, published a book entitled: _The

Constitution, Doctrine and Rituals of Catholicism and Protestantism_. As

Prof. Clausen enjoyed a great popularity among his students and, as a

teacher of theology, might influence the course of the Danish church for

many years, Grundtvig was very much interested in what he had to say. He

obtained the book and read it quickly but thoughtfully, underscoring the

points with which he disagreed. And these were numerous. At the very

beginning of the book, he found the author asserting that "the Protestant

theologian, since he need recognize no restriction of his interpretations

by creeds, traditions, or ecclesiastical authorities, is as once

infinitely more free and important than his Catholic colleague. For as

the Protestant church unlike the Catholic possesses no conclusive and

authoritative system of belief either in her creeds or in Scripture, it

devolves upon her trained theologians to set forth what the true

teachings of Christianity really are. "Why, O why!" the professor

exclaims, "should eternal Wisdom have willed revelation to appear in a

form so imperfect? What other purpose, I ask you, can an all-wise

Providence have had with such a plan than to compel the children of man

to recognize that it is only through the exercise of their own, human

intelligence that the revelation of God can be comprehended!"

As Grundtvig mused upon these assertions so expressive of all that he had

denied and fought against, he felt at once that they constituted a

challenge which he could not leave unanswered. He had shortly before

written to a friend: "Since the perverters of Christianity have become so

self-confident that they will not answer any charge against them except

when it is addressed to themselves personally and by name, one may

eventually have to employ that form of attack." And that was the form he

chose to use in his now famous book. _The Reply of the Church to Prof. H.

N. Clausen_.

"By the publication of this book," he writes, "Prof. Clausen has put

himself forward as a leader among the enemies of the church and the

perverters of God's word in this country. A church, such as he advocates,

that has no determinable form, exists only in the brains of the

theologians, and must be construed from theological speculations on the

basis of a discredited Bible and according to the changing thoughts and

opinions of man, is plainly nothing but a fantastic dream, a comic if it

were not so tragic conception of a Christian congregation which claims to

confess the same faith, but knows not what it is, and holds that it is

instituted by God, but cannot tell for what purpose before the

theologians have found it out.

"Against such a church, I place the historical church, that is the church

of the Gospel, instituted by Christ Himself, created by His word and

vivified by His Spirit. For I contend that the Christian church now as

always consists of that body of believers who truly accept the faith of

their baptismal covenant, Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper as the faith

and means of salvation."

_The Reply of the Church_ caused a sensation. It was read and discussed

everywhere. But if Grundtvig had hoped to force a general discussion of

the plight of the church, he was disappointed. Prof. Clausen answered him

with a lawsuit "for malicious injury to his professional honor"; his

enemies all condemned him, and his friends were silent. If they approved

of the substance of his charges, they disapproved of their form.

Grundtvig appeared to have thrown away the last remnant of his already

tattered reputation, and only the years would reveal that in doing so he

had struck a deadlier blow against Rationalism than he had expected, that

he had, in fact, for years to come made Rationalism impossible in Denmark

as a form of Christianity.

Meanwhile the Danish church was preparing to celebrate its thousandth

anniversary in May, 1826. Grundtvig looked forward to the event with

almost child-like anticipation, hoping that the celebration might serve

to awaken a new appreciation of the old church. To heighten the

festivities the authorities had authorized pastors to select the hymns

for the services in their own churches, and Grundtvig had written and

published a pamphlet of hymns to be used in his church. But shortly

before the festival, his bishop informed him that only hymns from the

authorized hymnal could be chosen. As no one else had composed hymns for

the occasion, Grundtvig could not doubt that this new ruling was aimed

solely at him, and this new evidence at the length to which his enemies

would go for the sake of humiliating him appeared to him like the last

straw. He had long suffered under the difficulty of serving a church

which honored the law-breaker and persecuted the law-abiding and thought

of resigning. But he had a family to support. And while he himself would

gladly bear the poverty his resignation would inevitably bring him, he

doubted his right to impose such a burden upon his family. The difficulty

was finally solved for him by his wife, who one day came into his study

and said: "Father, I know what is troubling you. You wish to resign and

hesitate to do so for our sake. But I want you to do whatever you think

is right. The Lord will provide for us."

And so it was settled. His resignation was handed to the authorities a

few days before the festival, and it was accepted so quickly that he was

released from office before the following Sunday. When the festive Sunday

came which he had looked forward to with so much pleasure, he sat idly in

his study across from the church and watched people come for the service,

but another pastor preached the sermon, he had earnestly wished to

deliver, and other hymns than his own beloved songs served as vehicles

for the people's praise.

Public sentiment regarding Grundtvig's resignation varied. His friends

deplored the action, holding that he should have remained in his

pastorate both for the sake of his congregation and the cause which he

had so ably championed. But his opponents rejoiced, seeing in his

resignation just another proof of an erratic mentality. For who had ever

heard of a normal person withdrawing from a secure and respectable

position without even asking for the pension to which he was entitled?

The six years during which Grundtvig remained without a pulpit were among

the busiest and most fruitful of his life. He published his

_Sunday-Book_, a collection of sermons which many still rate among the

finest devotional books in Danish; made extended visits to England in

1829-1831, for the purpose of studying the old Anglo Saxon manuscripts

kept there, an undertaking that awakened the interest of the English

themselves in these great treasures; wrote his splendid _Northern

Mythology or Picture Language_, and _The World's History after the Best

Sources_, works in which he presents the fundamental aspects of his

historical, folk and educational views that have made his name known not

only in Scandinavia but in almost every country in the world.

Meanwhile he again had entered the pulpit. As a compensation for the loss

of his ministry, a group of his friends shortly after his resignation

began to hold private assemblies. When Grundtvig still firmly refused to

take part in these, they decided to organize an independent congregation,

petition the government for permission to use an abandoned German

Lutheran church and call Grundtvig as their pastor. The petition was

promptly refused, though Grundtvig himself pleaded with the authorities

to permit the organization of an independent congregation as the best

means of relieving the dissatisfied members of the church and declared

that he would himself join the assemblies unless some such measure of

relief was granted. When the authorities ignored his plea, Grundtvig made

good his threat and appeared at the assemblies, drawing such a crowd that

no private home could possibly hold it, whereupon it was decided to

secure a public hall for future meetings. But when the authorities heard

this, they suddenly experienced a change of heart and offered the

troublesome preacher and his friends the use of Frederik's church for a

vesper service each Sunday.

The eight years Grundtvig served as an independent preacher at the

Frederik's church were among the happiest in his life. He rejoiced to

know that the large, diversified audience crowding the sanctuary each

Sunday came wholly of its own free will. It also pleased the now

gray-haired pastor to see an increasing number of students become

constant attendants at his services. Even so, his position had its

drawbacks. He was permitted neither to administer the sacraments nor to

instruct the young people, and the authorities even denied him the right

to confirm his own sons. Grundtvig felt especially this refusal so keenly

that he again was thinking of resigning his pulpit when the king offered

him an appointment as pastor of Vartov, a large institution for the aged.

Thus from 1839 until Grundtvig's death the chapel at Vartov became his

home and that of his friends and the center of the fast growing

Grundtvigian movement. People from all walks of life, from the Queen to

the common laborer, became regular attendants at the unpretentious

sanctuary, and the eyes of some old people still shine when they recall

the moving spirit of the services there, the venerable appearance and

warm monotone voice of the pastor, and, especially, the hearty,

soul-stirring singing. Many of Grundtvig's own great hymns were

introduced at Vartov. From there they spread throughout the church. And

it was to a large extent the hearty, inspiring congregational singing at

Vartov which made the Danish church a singing church.

Chapter Fourteen

The Hymnwriter

Splendid are the heavens high,

Beautiful the radiant sky,

Where the golden stars are shining,

And their rays, to earth inclining,

-: Beckon us to heaven above :-

It was on a Christmas night,

Darkness veiled the starry height;

But at once the heavens hoary

Beamed with radiant light and glory,

-: Coming from a wondrous star :-

When this star so bright and clear

Should illume the midnight drear,

Then, according to tradition,

Should a king of matchless vision

-: Unto earth from heaven descend :-

Sages from the East afar

When they saw this wondrous star,

Went to worship and adore Him

And to lay their gifts before Him

-: Who was born that midnight hour :-

Him they found in Bethlehem

Without crown or diadem,

They but saw a maiden lowly

With an infant pure and holy

-: Resting in her loving arms :-

Guided by the star they found

Him whose praise the ages sound.

We have still a star to guide us

Whose unsullied rays provide us

-: With the light to find our Lord :-

And this star so fair and bright

Which will ever lead aright,

Is God's word, divine and holy,

Guiding all His children lowly

-: Unto Christ, our Lord and King :-

This lovely, childlike hymn, the first to appear from Grundtvig's pen,

was written in the fall of 1810 when its author was still battling with

despair and his mind faltering on the brink of insanity. Against this

background the hymn appears like a ray of sunlight breaking through a

clouded sky. And as such it must undoubtedly have come to its author. As

an indication of Grundtvig's simple trust in God, it is noteworthy that

another of his most childlike hymns, "God's Child, Do Now Rest Thee," was

likewise composed during a similar period of distress that beset him many

years later.

For a number of years Grundtvig's hymn of the Wise Men represented his

sole contribution to hymnody. Other interests engaged his attention and

absorbed his energy. During his years of intense work with the sagas he

only occasionally broke his "engagement" with the dead to strike the lyre

for the living. In 1815 he translated "In Death's Strong Bonds Our Savior

Lay" from Luther, and "Christ Is Risen from the Dead" from the Latin. The

three hundredth anniversary of the Reformation brought his adaptation of

Kingo's "Like the Golden Sun Ascending" and translations of Luther's "A

Mighty Fortress Is Our God" and "The Bells Ring in the Christmastide." In

1820 he published his now popular "A Babe Is Born at Bethlehem" from an

old Latin-Danish text, and 1824 saw his splendid rendering of "The Old

Day Song," "With Gladness We Hail the Blessed Day," and his original "On

Its Rock the Church of Jesus Stood Mongst Us a Thousand Years."

These songs constitute his whole contribution to hymnody from 1810 to

1825. But the latter year brought a signal increase. In the midst of his

fierce battle with the Rationalists he published the first of his really

great hymns, a song of comfort to the daughters of Zion, sitting

disconsolately at the sickbed of their mother, the church. Her present

state may appear so hopeless that her children fear to remember her

former glory:

Dares the anxious heart envision

Still its morning dream,

View, despite the world's derision,

Zion's sunlit height and stream?

Wields still anyone the power

To repeat her anthems strong,

And with joyful heart embower,

Zion with triumphant song.

Her condition is not hopeless, however, if her children will gather about

her.

Zion's sons and daughters rally

Now upon her ancient wall!

Have her foemen gained the valley,

Yet her ramparts did not fall.

Were her outer walls forsaken

Still her cornerstone remains,

Firm, unconquered and unshaken,

Making futile all their gains.

Another of his great hymns dates from the same year. Grundtvig was in the

habit of remaining up all night when he had to speak on the following

day. The Christmas of 1825 was particularly trying to him. He had

apparently forfeited his last vestige of honor by publishing his _Reply

of the Church_; the suit started against him by Professor Clausen still

dragged its laborious way through the court; and his anxiety over the

present state of the church was greatly increased by the weight of his

personal troubles. He felt very much like the shepherds watching their

flocks at night, except that no angels appeared to help him with the

message his people would expect him to deliver in the morning. Perhaps he

was unworthy of such a favor. He rose, as was his custom, and made a

round into the bedrooms to watch his children. How innocently they slept!

If the angels could not come to him, they ought at least to visit the

children. If they heard the message, their elders might perchance catch

it through them.

Some such thought must have passed through the mind of the lonely pastor

as he sat musing upon his sermon throughout the night, for he appeared

unusually cheerful as he ascended his pulpit Christmas morning, preached

a joyful sermon, and said, at its conclusion, that he had that night

begotten a song which he wished to read to them. That song has since

become one of the most beloved Christmas songs in the Danish language. To

give an adequate reproduction of its simple, childlike spirit in another

language is perhaps impossible, but it is hoped that the translation

given below will convey at least an impression of its cheerful welcome to

the Christmas angels.

Be welcome again, God's angels bright

From mansions of light and glory

To publish anew this wintry night

The wonderful Christmas story.

Ye herald to all that yearn for light

New year after winter hoary.

With gladness we hear your sweet refrain

In praise of God's glory solely;

Ye will not this wintry night disdain

To enter our dwellings lowly.

And bring to each yearning heart again

The joy that is pure and holy.

In humble homes as in mansions rare

With light in the windows glowing,

We harbor the babes as sweet and fair

As flowers in meadows growing.

Oh, deign with these little ones to share

The joy from your message flowing.

Reveal the child in the manger still

With angels around Him singing

The song of God's glory, peace, good-will

That joy to all hearts is bringing,

While far over mountain, field and hill,

The bells are with gladness ringing.

God's angels with joy to earth descend

When hymns to His praise are chanted;

His comfort and peace our Lord will lend

To all who for peace have panted;

The portals of heaven open stand;

The Kingdom to us is granted.

In 1826 Grundtvig, as already related, published his hymns for the

thousand years' festival of his church. But a few months later he again

buried himself in his study, putting aside the lyre, which for a little

while he had played so beautifully. Many had already noticed his hymns,

however, and continued to plead with him for more. The new Evangelical

revival, which he had largely inspired, intensified the general

dissatisfaction with the rationalistic Evangelical Christian Hymnal, and

called for hymns embodying the spirit of the new movement. And who could

better furnish these than Grundtvig? Of those who pleaded with him for

new hymns, none was more persistent than his friend, Pastor Gunni Busck.

When Grundtvig wrote to him in 1832 that his _Northern Mythology_ was

nearing completion, Busck at once answered: "Do not forget your more

important work; do not forget our old hymns! I know no one else with your

ability to brush the dust off our old songs." But Grundtvig was still too

busy with other things to comply with the wish of his most faithful and

helpful friend.

During the ensuing years, however, a few hymns occasionally appeared from

his pen. A theological student, L. C. Hagen, secured a few adapted and

original hymns from him for a small collection of _Historical Hymns and

Rhymes for Children_, which was published in 1832. But the adaptations

were not successful. Despite the good opinion of Gunni Busck, Grundtvig

was too independent a spirit to adjust himself to the style and mode of

others. His originals were much more successful. Among these we find such

gems as "Mongst His Brothers Called the Little," "Move the Signs of Grief

and Mourning from the Garden of the Dead," and "O Land of Our King,"

hymns that rank with the finest he has written.

In 1835 Grundtvig at last wrote to Gunni Busck that he was now ready to

commence the long deferred attempt to renew the hymnody of his church.

Busck received the information joyfully and at once sent him a thousand

dollars to support him during his work. Others contributed their mite,

making Grundtvig richer financially than he had been for many years. He

rented a small home on the shores of the Sound and began to prepare

himself for the work before him by an extensive study of Christian

hymnody, both ancient and modern.

"The old hymns sound beautiful to me out here under the sunny sky and

with the blue water of the Sound before me," he wrote to Busck. He did

not spend his days day-dreaming, however, but worked with such intensity

that only a year later he was able to invite subscriptions on the first

part of his work. The complete collection was published in 1837 under the

title: _Songs of the Danish Church_. It contains in all 401 hymns and

songs composed of originals, translations and adaptations from Greek,

Latin, German, Icelandic, Anglo-Saxon, English and Scandinavian sources.

The material is of very unequal merit, ranging from the superior to the

commonplace. As originally composed, the collection could not be used as

a hymnal. But many of the finest hymns now used in the Danish church have

been selected or adapted from it.

Although _Songs for the Danish Church_ is now counted among the great

books in Danish, its appearance attracted little attention outside the

circle of Grundtvig's friends. It was not even reviewed in the press. The

literati, both inside and outside the church, still publicly ignored

Grundtvig. But privately a few of them expressed their opinion about the

work. Thus a Pastor P. Hjort wrote to Bishop Mynster, "Have you read

Grundtvig's _Songs of the Danish Church_? It is a typical Grundtvigian

book, wordy, ingenious, mystical, poetical and full of half digested

ideas. His language is rich and wonderfully expressive. But he is not

humble enough to write hymns."

Meanwhile the demand for a new hymnal or at least for a supplement to the

old had become so insistent that something had to be done. J. P. Mynster

who, shortly before, had been appointed Bishop of Sjaelland, favored a

supplement and obtained an authorization from the king for the

appointment of a committee to prepare it. The only logical man to head

such a committee was, of course, Grundtvig. But Mynster's dislike of his

volcanic relative was so deep-rooted that he was incapable of giving any

recognition to him. And so in order to avoid a too obvious slight to his

country's best known hymnwriter, he assigned the work to an already

existing committee on liturgy, of which he himself was president. Thus

Grundtvig was forced to sit idly by while the work naturally belonging to

him was being executed by a man with no special ability for the task. The

supplement appeared in 1843. It contained thirty-six hymns of which six

were written by Kingo, seven by Brorson, and one by Grundtvig, the latter

being, as Grundtvig humorously remarked, set to the tune of the hymn,

"Lord, I Have Done Wrong."

Mynster's influence was great enough to secure the supplement a wide

circulation. The collection, nevertheless, failed to satisfy the need of

the church. Dissatisfaction with it was so general that the pastors'

conference of Copenhagen appointed a committee consisting of Grundtvig,

Prof. Martensen, Mynster's own son-in-law, Rev. Pauli, his successor as

Provost of the Church of Our Lady, and two other pastors to prepare and

present a proposal for a new hymnal. It was an able committee from which

a meritorious work might reasonably be expected.

Grundtvig was assigned to the important work of selecting and revising

the old hymns to be included in the collection. He was an inspiring but

at times difficult co-worker. Martensen recalls how Grundtvig at times

aroused the committee to enthusiasm by an impromptu talk on hymnody or a

recitation of one of the old hymns, which he loved so well. But he also

recalls how he sometimes flared up and stormed out of the committee room

in anger over some proposed change or correction of his work. When his

anger subsided, however, he always conscientiously attempted to effect

whatever changes the committee agreed on proposing. Yet excellent as much

of his own work was, he possessed no particular gift for mending the work

of others, and his corrections of one defect often resulted in another.

The committee submitted its work to the judgment of the conference in

January 1845. The proposal included 109 hymns of which nineteen were by

Kingo, seven by Brorson, ten by Ingemann, twenty-five by Grundtvig and

the remainder by various other writers, old and new. It appeared to be a

well balanced collection, giving due recognition to such newer writers as

Boye, Ingemann, Grundtvig and others. But the conference voted to reject

it. Admitting its poetical excellence and its sound Evangelical tenor,

some of the pastors complained that it contained too many new and too few

old hymns; others held that it bore too clearly the imprint of one man, a

complaint which no doubt expressed the sentiment of Mynster and his

friends. A petition to allow such churches as should by a majority vote

indicate their wish to use the collection was likewise rejected by the

Bishop.

Grundtvig was naturally disappointed by the rejection of a work upon

which he had spent so much time and energy. The rejection furthermore

showed him that he still could expect no consideration from the

authorities with Mynster in control. He was soon able, however, to

comfort himself with the fact that his hymns were becoming popular in

private assemblies throughout the country, and that even a number of

churches were beginning to use them at their regular services in defiance

of official edicts. The demand for granting more liberty to the laymen in

their church life, a demand Grundtvig long had advocated, was in fact

becoming so strong that the authorities at times found it advisable to

overlook minor infractions of official rulings. Noting this new policy,

Grundtvig himself ventured to introduce some of the new hymns into his

church. In the fall of 1845, he published a small collection of Christmas

hymns to be used at the impending Christmas festival. When the innovation

passed without objections, a similar collection of Easter hymns was

introduced at the Easter services, after which other collections for the

various seasons of the church year appeared quite regularly until all

special prints were collected into one volume and used as "the hymnal of

Vartov."

The work of preparing a new authorized hymnal was finally given to

Grundtvig's closest friend, Ingemann. This hymnal appeared in 1855, under

the title, _Roskilde Convent's Psalmbook_. This book served as the

authorized hymnal of the Danish church until 1899, when it was replaced

by _Hymnal for Church and Home_, the hymnal now used in nearly all Danish

churches both at home and abroad. It contains in all 675 hymns of which

96 are by Kingo, 107 by Brorson, 29 by Ingemann and 173 by Grundtvig,

showing that the latter at last had been recognized as the foremost

hymnwriter of the Danish church.

Chapter Fifteen

Grundtvig's Hymns

Grundtvig wrote most of his hymns when he was past middle age, a man of

extensive learning, proved poetical ability and mature judgment,

especially in spiritual things. Years of hard struggles and unjust

neglect had sobered and mellowed but not aged or embittered him.

His long study of hymnology together with his exceptional poetical gift

enabled him to adopt material from all ages and branches of Christian

song, and to wield it into a homogenous hymnody for his own church. His

treatment of the material is usually very free, so free that it is often

difficult to discover any relationship between his translations and their

supposed originals. Instead of endeavoring to transfer the metre,

phrasing and sentiment of the original text, he frequently adopts only a

single thought or a general idea from its content, and expresses this in

his own language and form.

His original hymns likewise bear the imprint of his ripe knowledge and

spiritual understanding. They are for the most part objective in content

and sentiment, depicting the great themes of Biblical history, doctrine

and life rather than the personal feeling and experiences of the

individual. A large number of his hymns are, in fact, faithful but often

striking adaptations of Bible stories and texts. For though he was

frequently accused of belittling the Book of Books, his hymns to a larger

extent than those of any other Danish hymnwriter are directly inspired by

the language of the Bible. He possessed an exceptional ability to absorb

the essential implications of a text and to present it with the terseness

and force of an adage.

Although Grundtvig's hymns at times attain the height of pure poetry,

their poetic merit is incidental rather than sought. In the pride of his

youth he had striven, as he once complained, to win the laurel wreath,

but had found it to be an empty honor. His style is more often forceful

than lyrical. When the mood was upon him he could play the lyre with

entrancing beauty and gentleness, but he preferred the organ with all

stops out.

His style is often rough but expressive and rich in imagery. In this he

strove to supplant time-honored similes and illustrations from Biblical

lands with native allusions and scenes. Pictures drawn from the Danish

landscape, lakes and streams, summer and winter, customs and life abound

in his songs, giving them a home-like touch that has endeared them to

millions.

His poetry is of very unequal merit. He was a prolific writer, producing,

besides many volumes of poetry on various subjects, about three thousand

hymns and songs. Among much that is excellent in this vast production

there are also dreary stretches of rambling loquacity, hollow rhetoric

and unintelligible jumbles of words and phrases. He could be

insupportably dull and again express more in a single stanza, couplet or

phrase than many have said in a whole book. A study of his poetry is,

therefore, not unlike a journey through a vast country, alternating in

fertile valleys, barren plains and lofty heights with entrancing views

into far, dim vistas.

This inconsistency in the work of a man so eminently gifted as Grundtvig

is explainable only by his method of writing. He was an intuitive writer

and preferred to be called a "skjald" instead of a poet. The distinction

is significant but somewhat difficult to define. As Grundtvig himself

understood the term, the "skjald", besides being a poet, must also be a

seer, a man able to envision and express what was still hidden to the

common mortal. "The skjald is," he says, "the chosen lookout of life who

must reveal from his mountain what he sees at life's deep fountain. When

gripped by his vision," he says further, the skjald is "neither quiescent

nor lifeless but, on the contrary, lifted up into an exceptional state of

sensitiveness in which he sees and feels things with peculiar vividness

and power. I know of nothing in this material world to which the skjald

may more fittingly be likened than a tuned harp with the wind playing

upon it."

A skjald in Grundtvig's conception was thus a man endowed with the gift

of receiving direct impressions of life and things, of perceiving

especially the deeper and more fundamental truths of existence

intuitively instead of intellectually. Such perceptions, he admitted,

might lack the apparent clarity of reasoned conclusions, but would

approach nearer to the truth. For life must be understood from within,

must be spiritually discerned. It could never be comprehended by mere

intellect or catalogued by supposed science.

He knew, however, that his work was frequently criticized for its

ambiguity and lack of consistency. But he claimed that these defects were

unavoidable consequences of his way of writing. He had to write what he

saw and could not be expected to express that clearly which he himself

saw only dimly. "I naturally desire to please my readers," he wrote to

Ingemann, "but when I write as my intuition dictates, it works well;

ideas and images come to me without effort, and I fly lightly as the

gazelle from crag to crag, whereas if I warn myself that there must be a

limit to everything and that I must restrain myself and write sensibly, I

am stopped right there. And I have thus to choose between writing as the

spirit moves me, or not writing at all."

This statement, although it casts a revealing light both upon his genius

and its evident limitations, is no doubt extreme. However much Grundtvig

may have depended on his momentary inspiration for the poetical

development of his ideas, his fundamental views on life were

exceptionally clear and comprehensive. He knew what he believed regarding

the essential verities of existence, of God and man, of good and evil, of

life and death. And all other conceptions of his intuitive and

far-reaching spirit were consistently correlated to these basic beliefs.

Bishop H. Martensen, the celebrated theologian, relates an illuminating

conversation between Grundtvig and the German theologian, P. K.

Marheincke, during a visit which the Bishop had arranged between the two

men. Dr. Marheincke commenced a lengthy discourse on the great opposites

in life, as for instance between thinking and being, and Grundtvig

replied, "My opposites are life and death" (Mein Gegensatz ist Leben und

Tod).

"The professor accepted my statement somewhat dubiously," Grundtvig said

later, "and admitted that that was indeed a great contrast, but--" The

difference between the two men no doubt lay in the fact that Prof.

Marheincke, the speculative theologian, was principally interested in the

first part of the assumed contrast--thinking, whereas Grundtvig's main

concern was with the last--being, existence, life. In real life there

could be no more fundamental, no farther reaching contrast than the

continuous and irreconcilable difference between life and death. The

thought of this contrast lies at the root of all his thinking and colors

all his views. From the day of his conversion until the hour of his

death, his one consuming interest was to illuminate the contrast between

the two irreconcilable enemies and to encourage anything that would

strengthen the one and defeat the other.