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with trembling.

And though our song of joy be fraught

With strains of lamentation,

The burden of our cross shall not

Subdue our jubilation.

For when the heart is most distressed,

The harp of joy is tuned so best

Its chords of joy are ringing,

And broken hearts best comprehend

The boundless joy our Lord and Friend

This Christmas day is bringing.

Hallelujah, our strife is o’er!

Who would henceforth with sadness

Repine and weep in sorrow sore

This blessed day of gladness.

Rejoice, rejoice, ye saints on earth,

And sing the wonders of His birth

Whose glory none can measure.

Hallelujah, the Lord is mine,

And I am now by grace divine

The heir of all His treasure!

Equally fine but more quietly contemplative is the next hymn in the collection which takes us right to the focal point of Christmas worship, the stable at Bethlehem.

My heart remains in wonder

Before that lowly bed

Within the stable yonder

Where Christ, my Lord, was laid.

My faith finds there its treasure,

My soul its pure delight,

Its joy beyond all measure,

The Lord of Christmas night.

But Oh! my heart is riven

With grief and sore dismay

To see the Lord of heaven

Must rest on straw and hay,

That He whom angels offer

Their worship and acclaim

From sinful man must suffer

Such scorn, neglect and shame.

Why should not castles royal

Before Him open stand,

And kings, as servants loyal,

Obey His least command?

Why came He not in splendor

Arrayed in robes of light

And called the world to render

Its homage to His might?

The sparrow finds a gable

Where it may build its nest,

The oxen know a stable

For shelter, food and rest;

Must then my Lord and Savior

A homeless stranger be,

Denied the simplest favor

His lowly creatures see.

O come, my Lord, I pray Thee,

And be my honored guest.

I will in love array Thee

A home within my breast.

It cannot be a stranger

To Thee, who made it free.

Thou shalt find there a manger

Warmed by my love to Thee.

Far different from this song of quiet contemplation is the searching hymn that follows it.

How do we exalt the Father

That He sent His Son to earth.

Many with indifference gather

At His gift of boundless worth.

This is followed by another hymn of praise.

Lift up your voice once more

The Savior to adore.

Let all unite in spirit

And praise the grace and merit

Of Jesus Christ, the Holy,

Our joy and glory solely.

And then comes “The Fairest of Roses”, which a distinguished critic calls “one of the most perfect lyrics in the Danish language”. This hymn is inspired by a text from the Song of Songs “I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley”. It is written as an allegory, a somewhat subdued form of expression that in this case serves admirably to convey an impression of restrained fire. Its style is reminiscent of the folk songs, with the first stanza introducing the general theme of the song, the appearance of the rose, that is, of the Savior in a lost and indifferent world. The remainder of the verses are naturally divided into three parts: a description of the dying world in which God causes the rose to appear, a lament over the world’s indifference to the gift which it should have received with joy and gratitude, and a glowing declaration of what the rose means to the poet himself.

Many chapters have been written about the poetic excellencies of this hymn, such as the perfect balance of its parts, the admirable treatment of the contrast between the rose and the thorns, and the skillful choice of rhymes to underscore the predominating sentiment of each verse. But some of these excellencies have no doubt been lost in the translation and can be appreciated only by a study of the original. English translations of the hymn have been made by German-, Swedish-, and Norwegian-American writers, indicating its wide popularity. The following is but another attempt to produce a more adequate rendering of this beautiful song.

Now found is the fairest of roses,

Midst briars it sweetly reposes.

My Jesus, unsullied and holy,

Abode among sinners most lowly.

Since man his Creator deserted,

And wholly His image perverted,

The world like a desert was lying,

And all in transgressions were dying.

But God, as His promises granted,

A rose in the desert hath planted,

Which now with its sweetness endoweth

The race that in sinfulness groweth.

All people should now with sweet savor

Give praise unto God for His favor;

But many have ne’er comprehended

The rose to the world hath descended.

Ye sinners as vile in behavior

As thorns in the crown of the Savior,

Why are ye so prideful in spirit,

Content with your self-righteous merit?

O seek ye the places more lowly,

And weep before Jesus, the Holy,

Then come ye His likeness the nearest;

The rose in the valley grows fairest.

My Jesus, Thou ever remainest

My wonderful rose who sustainest

My heart in the fullness of pleasure;

Thy sweetness alone I will treasure.

The world may of all things bereave me,

Its thorns may assail and aggrieve me,

The foe may great anguish engender:

My rose I will never surrender.

The last Christmas hymn of the collection is printed under the heading: “A Little Hymn for the Children”, and is composed from the text “Have ye not read, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise”. Said to be the oldest children’s hymn in Danish, it is still one of the finest. It is written as a processional. The children come hastening on to Bethlehem to find the new-born Lord and offer Him their homage. One almost hears their pattering feet and happy voices as they rush forward singing:

Here come Thy little ones, O Lord,

To Thee in Bethlehem adored.

Enlighten now our heart and mind

That we the way to Thee may find.

We hasten with a song to greet

And kneel before Thee at Thy feet.

O blessed hour, O sacred night,

When Thou wert born, our soul’s Delight!

Be welcome from Thy heavenly home

Unto this vale of tears and gloom,

Where man to Thee no honor gave

But stable, manger, cross and grave.

But Jesus, oh! how can it be

That but so few will think of Thee

And of that tender, wondrous love

Which drew Thee to us from above?

O draw us little children near

To Thee, our Friend and Brother dear,

That each of us so heartily

In faith and love may cling to Thee.

Let not the world lead us astray

That we our Christian faith betray,

But grant that all our longings be

Directed always unto Thee.

Then shall the happy day once come

When we shall gather in Thy home

And join the angels’ joyful throng

In praising Thee with triumph song.

We gather now about Thee close

Like leaves around the budding rose,

O grant us, Savior, that we may

Thus cluster round Thy throne for aye.

His Christmas hymns were so well received that Brorson was encouraged to continue his writing. During the following year he published no less than five collections bearing the titles: Some Advent Hymns, Some Passion Hymns, Some Easter Hymns, Some Pentecost Hymns, and Hymns for the Minor Festivals. All of these hymns were likewise kindly received and therefore he continued to send out new collections, publishing during the following years a whole series of hymns on various phases of Christian faith and life. In 1739, all these hymns were collected into one volume and published under the title: The Rare Clenod of Faith.

This now famous book contains in all 67 original and 216 translated hymns. The arrangement of the hymns follows in the main the order of the Lutheran catechism, covering not only every division but almost every subdivision of the book. Brorson, it appears, must have written his hymns after a preconceived plan, a rather unusual method for a hymnwriter to follow.

The Rare Clenod of Faith fails as a whole to maintain the high standard of the Christmas hymns. Although the language, as in all that Brorson wrote, is pure and melodious, the poetic flight and fresh sentiment of his earlier work is lacking to some extent in the latter part of the collection. One reason for this is thought to be that Brorson, on locating at Tønder, had come into closer contact with the more extreme views of Pietism. The imprint of that movement, at least, is more distinct upon his later than upon his earlier work. The great preponderance of his translated over his original hymns also affects the spirit of the collection. He was not always fortunate in the selection of the original material for his translations. Some of these express the excessive Pietistic contemplation of the Savior’s blood and wounds; others are rhymed sermons rather than songs of praise.

Despite these defects, The Rare Clenod of Faith, still ranks with the great books of hymnody. It contains a wealth of hymns that will never die. Even the less successful of its compositions present a true Evangelical message, a message that, at times, sounds a stern call to awake and “shake off that sinful sleep before to you is closed the open door” and, at others, pleads softly for a closer walk with God, a deeper understanding of His ways and a firmer trust in His grace. There are many strings on Brorson’s harp, but they all sound a note of vital faith.

Judging Brorson’s original hymns to be far superior to his translations, some have deplored that he should have spent so much of his time in transferring the work of others. And it is, no doubt, true that his original hymns are as a whole superior to his translations. But many of these are so fine that their elimination would now appear like an irreplaceable loss to Danish hymnody. The constant love with which many of them have been used for more than two hundred years should silence the claim that a translated hymn must of necessity be less valuable than an original. A considerable number of the originals of Brorson’s most favored translations have long been forgotten.

As a translator Brorson is usually quite faithful to the originals, following them as closely as the differences in language and mode of expression permit. He is not slavishly bound, however, to his text. His constant aim is to reproduce his text in a pure and idiomatic Danish. And as his own poetic skill in most cases was superior to that of the original writer, his translations are often greatly superior to their originals in poetical merit.

Although the translation of a translation of necessity presents a very unreliable yard-stick of a man’s work, the following translation of Brorson’s version of the well-known German hymn, “Ich Will Dich Lieben, Meine Starke” may at least indicate the nature of his work as a translator.

Thee will I love, my strength, my Treasure;

My heart in Thee finds peace and joy.

Thee will I love in fullest measure,

And in Thy cause my life employ.

Thee will I love and serve alone.

Lord, take me as Thine own.

Thee will I love, my Life Eternal,

My Guide and Shepherd on Life’s way.

Thou leadest me to pastures vernal,

And to the light of endless day.

Thee will I love, Whose blood was spilt

To cleanse my soul from guilt.

Long, long wert Thou to me a stranger,

Though Thou didst love me first of all,

I strayed afar in sin and danger

And heeded

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