DEND FIERDE AFTEN-SANG
Dend klare Sool gaar ned, det qvelder meer og meer,
Hver Arbeydsmand er træt og sig om hvile seer:
En Dag jeg nærmer' er ved Døden end som før,
Tiden mig
Saa sagtelig
Oplukker Dødsens Dør.
Her skiftis Tiden om, her vexlis Dag og Nat,
Af Solen bliver kun en skygge efterlat!
Saa Verdens Herlighed omsider ende faar,
Mørken Grav
Og Orme-Drav
Vi sidst i Verden aaer.
Tænk da, o tænk dig om, min Siæl, søg ey din Roo
I Verden, som ey veed at holde stand og Troo!
Ræt nu vaar Solen her nu er her idel mørk
Verden var
Da lyvs og klar,
Nu er dend som en Ørk.
Jeg triner nu udi det Dugge-fulde Græs,
Naturen siger mig: Bie lit, stat her og læs:
See Morgen-blomsteret, hvor det er falmed nu!
Det vaar Fragt,
Nu er det slagt,
Ach! kom det dog ihu.
Min Siæl, vær rolig lit, mens jeg mig tænker om,
Hvad dog min Gud hand er langmodig, mild og from,
Jeg seer mit Kontrafey i Blomster og i Høe,
Dag og Nat
Mig lærer brat
At jeg skal engang døe.
Tak, tusind gange tak, O Gud, som ævig er,
Og udi tiden dog slig Omhu for mig bær!
Fra første Øyeblik der jeg af Rode randt,
Af mit Leer
Du giorde meer
End jeg kand sige grandt.
Du toede mig udaf mit syndig fødeblood,
Og gafst mig i din Søn en anden Voxe-rood,
Du har opklekket mig udi dit rene Ord,
Ja min Siæl
Saa tiit og vel
Er spised ved dit Bord.
End er jeg denne Dag ved din Barmhiertighed
Ulykken gangen qvit, om Satan end var vred,
Du har og givet mig i dag min deel af Brød,
I min Skaal,
Med Himmel-maal,
Din Gunst og Naade flød.
Men, O min Gud, giv til hvad jeg mod dig har brudt,
Agt ey de Spirer som af Syndsens Rood er skudt,
Løs min Samvittighed af sine Synders Baand,
Kast dem ned,
I ævighed,
I Haved med din Haand.
Stil du en Engle-vagt omkring min Sove-sted,
Lad Satan i mit Huus ey sette noget fied,
Luk Himlen i mit Sind, giør Hu og Hierte reen,
Lad min Siæl,
Af Kiødets Pæl,
Ey finde noget meen.
Oplyvs din Meenighed og breed din Ære ud,
Omfaun med Kierlighed din Aandelige Brud,
Som du i Norden har opelsked dig til Lov,
Stød dem om
Med Rætviis Dom,
Som søge hendis Rov.
Gud, lad din Salighed for Kongens Ansigt gaa,
Og hug hans Fiender af som Axeklipped straa,
Formeer hans Herlighed, forlæng hans Lives Aar,
Gid hans Sæd,
I dyder klæd,
Stoor magt i Verden faar.
O naadens Fader, see og af din Himmel ned
I ald din Christendom, til hvers nødtørftighed!
Jeg staar nu færdig til min Sovested at gaa,
Giv du mig,
At jeg i dig
En rolig Nat kand faa.
Kom, mægtig Engle-hær, lyvs Herrens Roo og Fred,
Paa Siæl og Legem, og hvad meer mig kommer ved!
Gak, Orme-sæk, og sov, Gud skal i Morgen dig
Vekke her,
Men siden der
Til Liv ævindelig.
THE FOURTH EVENING SONG
The bright sun starts to set, soon evening will be here,
Each labourer is tired and hopes that rest is near:
To death I am yet one day closer than before,
Time for me
Unhurriedly
Is opening death’s door.
Here time is interchanged, with day replaced by night,
A shadow only of the sun is still in sight!
And finally the world has lost its gloriousness,
Grave’s black maw
And worms that gnaw
Is all that we’ll possess.
Then think, o think again, my soul, your rest don’t seek
Within the world, in faith and fortitude so weak!
A moment since the sun was here, now all is dark,
With the night
The world once bright
Turns desert-like and stark.
I make my way through grass that’s hung with drops of dew
And nature says: Just stop and ponder what’s in view:
The morning’s blossoming, how sadly it has pined!
What once thrived
Has not survived,
Ah! Bear all this in mind.
Be calm, my soul, for on this thought I need to brood:
How patient my God is with me, how mild and good,
I see my striking likeness in the hay and flowers,
Day and night
Teach me aright
The briefness of my hours.
A thousand thanks, o God, who from eternity
Have even so for me in time cared constantly!
Right from the instant that I here on earth did dwell
Of my clay
You have alway
Made more than I can tell.
Of sinful human blood you washed me white as snow,
And in your Son gave me a root on which to grow,
Have raised and nurtured me with your true word as bread,
Yea, my soul
Is oft made whole
When by your food it’s fed.
By your great mercy I’ve been spared all dire
Misfortune until now, in spite of Satan’s ire,
My daily bread on me you also have bestowed
In the cup
From which I sup
Have grace and mercy flowed.
But, o my God, forgive the wrongs I would disown,
Ignore the shoots that from the root of sin have grown,
And my bad conscience from its bonds of sin set free,
Cast them down
And let them drown
For ever in the sea.
Install a watch of guardian angels round my bed,
Let Satan never in my house one footstep tread,
Bring heaven to my mind, make pure my head and heart
May my soul
Remain quite whole,
Unpierced by flesh’s dart.
Your church enlighten, let your glory spread out wide,
Embrace with godly love your spiritual bride
Which in the North you’ve nurtured to your praise,
Vengeance wreak
On those who seek
Her harm or some malaise.
Lord, let your blessedness before the king’s face go,
And all his enemies like scythed corn be brought low
Increase his earthly glory, let his life be long
May his line
With virtues fine
Know power both great and strong.
O Father, in your mercy, down from heaven gaze
On all your Christendom, all misery erase!
I now am almost ready to retire to bed,
Grant that I
In you may lie
And safely rest my head.
Come, mighty angel host, on soul and body shed
God’s rest and peace, and on what else that lies ahead!
Go sleep now, sack of worms, God’s waking call shall be
Here anon,
But later on
To his eternity.
