Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Picture in the Hymn-Book by Viktor Rydberg
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Yet there they stood,
Cross, crown, to sight,
As if in a flood
Of heavenly light,
Far off, in all the blaze of the choir:
Harmonies stealing,
Anthems pealing.
Filling the temple, rose higher, higher.
I took my book and opened it: awe
My reverent soul seemed to fill.
I see the woodcut now, that I saw.
For memory guards it still:
Its quaint portraying
David the King,
By Jordan praying,
Or Kedron’s spring.
A psalm mounts high on
The air, to Him:
Afar is Zion,
In outline dim.
As art, indeed, ’twas a wonderful thing;
In Lundström’s style
(I see you smile),
Old father Lundström, in Jönköping.
But oh, the beauty it had for me!
How, thrilled, my fancy found
The colors (fairer than mortals see)
To lay on that sordid ground!
The sapphire meadow.
The azure height
And limpid shadow!
The strings, as bright
As the sun, are flinging
Out sparks that, cast,
Are sounding and ringing,
And die at last—
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