Wherever this Rose Tree is grounded, The kingdom of God there is founded; And where its sweet fragrance is wafted, There peace in the heart is engrafted. As Kingo was known among the Danes as "the poet of Easter," so Brorson from this time was hailed as "the poet of Christmas." In 1747 Brorson was appointed by Christian VI to become bishop of the diocese of Ribe. It is said that the Danish monarch upon meeting Brorson at a certain occasion inquired of him if he was the author of the hymn, "Awake, all things that God has made." When the poet modestly answered in the affirmative, so the story runs, the king promised him the bishopric. When Erik Pontoppidan, later bishop of Bergen, was appointed to revise Kingo's hymnal, which for forty years had served the churches of Denmark and Norway, he found his task a comparatively simple one through the valuable assistance rendered by Brorson. Kingo's hymns were changed only slightly, and the greater part of the new material was from Brorson's pen. The later years of the poet were darkened by sad experiences. In the year that Brorson was elevated to the bishopric, his beloved wife died while giving birth to their thirteenth child. This and other troubles served to make him melancholy in spirit, but he did not cease to compose poems of rarest beauty. His thoughts, however, turned more and more toward heaven and the blessedness of the life hereafter. A celestial radiance is reflected in the hymns of his "Swan-Song." This is particularly true of "Behold, a host arrayed in white," a lyric that has become a favorite in America as well as in Europe through its association with Edvard Grieg's famous adaptation of a Norwegian folk song. Brorson's earnest character and pious nature made him deeply concerned about the salvation of souls. Many of his poems and hymns contain solemn warnings touching on the uncertainty of life and the need of seeking salvation. His gripping hymn, "Jeg gaar i Fare, hvor jeg gaar," gave Archbishop Wallin, the great Swedish hymnist, the inspiration for his noble stanzas: I near the grave, where'er I go, Where'er my pathway tendeth; If rough or pleasant here below, My way at death's gate endeth. I have no other choice; Between my griefs and joys My mortal life is ordered so: I near the grave, where'er I go. I go to heaven, where'er I go, If Jesus' steps I follow; The crown of life He will bestow, When earth this frame shall swallow. If through this tearful vale I in that course prevail, And walk with Jesus here below, I go to heaven, where'er I go.