This Kingo hymn actually only ever contained four verses!

Mighty God and Saviour mine

Mighty God and Saviour mine,

Who is there with power divine

That with thine can be compared?

No one has from Adam shared

Such a father, or such kin,

Such a mother free from sin,

That a virgin son has born.

John the Baptist, O great Lord,

Who so early walked abroad,

To proclaim thee to the world,

Stated clearly, so folk heard,

He was but a voice that called,

Preaching solace unto all

Who by sin were worn and torn.

He felt quite unworthy too

Thy shoe’s latchet to undo!

What am I then, Adam’s child,

Nought but dust, dirt, filth reviled!

I lack every shred of worth

To walk where thou trodst on earth,

Or within thy courts to bide.

Root of Jesse, Jesu sweet,

I by prayer and penance meet

Will for thee a place prepare

In my soul and heart to share:

Visit it and shape it best,

Enter in and be my guest,

Grant a blessed Christmastide.

Easter morning hymn from Thomas Kingo

Like the sun in golden splendour

Like the sun in golden splendour

Breaks through clouds as black as night,

Forcing dark and gloom’s surrender

With its radiant shafts of light,

So did Jesus from his grave

And death’s sea’s abysmal cave

Rise in glory, death now scorning

At first blush of Easter morning.

Thanks to thee, from death arisen

And that thou its hold couldst quell

Since it thee could not imprison,

In its tent pitch-black as hell.

Thanks to thee, victorious lord,

Heaven’s hero, much adored.

Proper joy one can but stutter,

For no tongue full praise can utter.

Deep within my heart is something,

Solace which the soul can find,

Which can soothe the pain forthcoming

When thy grave just fills my mind,

And reflect on where thou layst

In death’s endless empty space,

And rose up in power and splendour,

What can greater joy engender?

Should I lie in sin’s foul fetters,

Should I lie by sickness spent,

Should I lie midst worldly debtors

Should I lie by sorrows pent,

Should I lie despised, distressed,

By the world so sore oppressed,

In the grave I’ll make my dwelling,

There’s still hope beyond all telling.

For man’s sin thou paidst most dearly,

Death for me thou hast endured;

I, once wretched, poor and weary,

Also sick, by thee am cured.

I through thee from death’s dark vale

Shall be raised up, whole and hale,

Hold my head erect, unfearing,

All distress see disappearing.

Sin and death and every arrow

Which foul Satan can let fly

Since death’s dark land thee would harrow

Broken and defeated lie!

Thou didst bury them, and give

Me a staff to surely live

So when thou shalt come in glory

I’ll wave victor’s palms fronds for thee.

As God’s Son I now do own thee,

Thy omnipotence perceive,

Your defeat of death has shown me

What I know and I believe,

Blessedness and hope for me,

My baptism’s certainty,

In thy death are like an image
And thy resurrection’s message.

Thou one day to life willst raise me

By thy resurrective power

Let the earth conceal, erase me,

Worms my very juice devour,

Fire and water me consume!

I lie trusting in my tomb

That to life I shall be taken,

In death’s realm not lie forsaken.

Jesus, thy sweet mercy show me,

By thy holy spirit bred,

So my life’s course I can show thee,

When it by thy hand is led,

So I shall not fall again

Into death’s abyss of pain,

Out of which you once retrieved me,

Where you death suppressed completely.

For the joy thy birth’s professing

For your Godhead’s healing word,

For baptism’s holy blessing,

For communion’s joy conferred,

For the quelling of death’s dread,

For thy rising from the dead,

Lord, I thank thee unconfinedly

That in heaven I shall find thee.

A poem from 'Hsieh' by Klaus Høeck

i write poems for

     many reasons part

     ly because i can

not help myself partly out

of vanity but mostly

in order to avoid them

     and thereby achieve

     a temporary

     emptiness that is

not empty (and i’m not jug

gling with the concepts) but pre

cisely full of emptiness

One of the best-known Kingos - in this hymn-book version

Morning Song

From eastern skies I now

See sunlight streaming,

It gilds the rockface brow,

Sets hillside gleaming,

Rejoice, my soul, and let your praise be ringing,

From earthly home set free,

Through thanks and faith now be

To heaven winging.

Like countless grains of sand,

And without measure,

Like ocean depths unspanned,

Is mercy’s treasure

Which daily God upon my head is spilling:

His boundless grace I sup

Each morning from the cup

He’s bent on filling.

He has throughout the night

With hosts of angels

My house and home sealed tight

So that no danger

Could threaten me and mine and cause to languish:

I’m saved eternally,

From death’s dark path set free

And soul’s keen anguish.

My soul, be of good cheer,

Cast out all weeping,

Your body’s petal here

Is in God’s keeping:

He will today give me the strength and power

My calling to pursue,

To give my God His due

At every hour.

Let God join hands with me,

Fill me with Spirit

So trusting I may be,

My calling merit!

O bless me from on high, Lord God, I pray thee!

May constant faith in thee

And my own industry

Suffice me daily.

Today let no sin seize

My mind and blind me,

So what my God would please

I can gauge finely:

But should I go astray and chance to falter,

O God, set me aright,

Don’t punish me outright

As a defaulter.

Thou best my wants and needs,

O Lord, discernest,

And fortune too concedes

What thou affirmest,

And what would serve me best need not be asked for,

Thou knowst it long before!

My soul, why wish for more?

Let God be Master.

Tightly crafted heartfelt sigh from Kingo

Hierte-Suk om Hiertelig Andagt

Steenig Hierte, gid du kunde

     Blødne udi HErrens Haand,

Blive fuld til Bredd og Bunde

     Udaf Andagt ved hans Aand!

Kolde Hierte, Iise-kule,

     Bunde-frøsne Synde-søe,

Gid din dybe Froste-hule

     Op ved Aandens varme Tøe!

Dovne Hierte, Søvne-pryne,

     Dorsk og død i Kiød og Krop,

JEsu Sool og Øyenbryne

     Vække dig til Andagt op!

JEsu, lad dog Aandens Gløder,

     Rense Hiertet op og ned,

At de brekker, demper, døder

     Steen og Kuld, og Dovenhed.

Heartfelt sigh on cordial devotion

Stony heart, could you but merit

     Softening by God’s mighty hand,

And devotion to his spirit

      Swell the heartstrings’ every strand!

Icy heart, so cold and barren,

     Frozen-solid lake of sin,

Could your deep and frosty cavern

     Thaw from spirit’s warmth within!

Slothful heart, benumbed from sleeping,

     Dull and dead in flesh and thew,

Jesu’s sun ’neath eyelids peeping

     To devotion quicken you!

JEsus, let the spirit’s embers

     Cleanse the stubborn heart, no less,

Let them break, subdue, dismember

     Stone and cold, and slothfulness.

A pilgrim's 'heartfelt sigh' from Kingo

Heartfelt Sigh

Poor pilgrim am I here below,

In Adam’s rags of sin must go!

E’er since I got my staff on earth,

A few steps from my place of birth,

You, infant Jesus, know full well

How oft I nearly slipped and fell.

Throughout my youth I always tried

To make my pathway fine and wide,

And felt this globe on which I fared

Was smooth and neither caught nor snared,

I often thought that honey flowed

Where soft and greenest was my road,

But it was treacherous and foul,

A quagmire that would snatch my soul,

Though I at this did take alarm,

Christ’s strait path kept me safe from harm.

And still I wander, day by day,

That path which pleases God alway,

And seek my fortune where I can,

Support myself as is God’s plan!

May I, by no sin’s path misled,

In Jesu’s footsteps daily tread,

And from misfortune’s bitter pain

My own true calling still retain,

O Jesus, let your angel host

Be always kind to me and close,

May all things go as God’s ordained

Until my passport I have gained

From here unto my heavenly home,

And I no more shall have to roam!

'Up slothful hearts!' - Kingo in great form again

Up, slothful hearts, without delay

Up, slothful hearts, without delay –

Asleep, secure, but drifting,

You worldy children, who on clay

Do build and sands fast shifting –

Look all around, the last trump’s sound

And Doomsday end life’s story,

God will his bride not here let bide,

But fetch to endless glory.

But ah! though all of nature be

In motion widely ranging,

Though sun and moon perceptibly

Their signs are always changing,

Though stars might fall, e’en so we all

In our old ways still wallow,

Though earth and sea did warn us, see

We still sin’s orbit follow.

One hears most everywhere of dread,

Of trials, sighs, tribulation,

All joy and pleasures killed stone dead,

And daily tears our station:

This world below’s like well-lit tow

Whose flame flares ere it’s falling,

Yet only few have heard the cue:

For betterment God’s calling.

Our sin and our indecency

To such a pitch have risen

That Heaven’s powers do shake, for we

Would treat God with derision:

We won’t begin to quit all sin,

Though threats from God are dire,

Act stubbornly, until we see

Our whole world is on fire.

What use is worldly splendour then?

All riches, glory, treasure?

What use is power o’er other men?

Wherein will we find pleasure?

Where is the nook to block each look

When Christ makes his appearing

High in the skies, us to apprise

Of judgments we are fearing?

True limbs of Christ, rejoice and smile,

Your hearts lift in elation,

Who under worldly might and guile

Have known such tribulation,

On Judgment Day God will repay,

Reward your firm endeavour,

Take you from woes, and earth’s hard blows

To heav’nly joy for ever.

O Jesus, o’er my heart stand guard,

So pleasures don’t pervert me,

So worldly lusts from me are barred,
Their venom fail to hurt me:

Help, Christ, I pray, on Judgment Day

That from you nought can sever,

Through your wounds’ pain I mercy gain

And sing your praise for ever.