igion and
discovered the historical significance of Christianity, but just what did
the Christian faith mean to him personally?

He was still pondering this question, when in the fall of 1810, he
commenced a study of the Crusades, "the heroic age of Christianity," as
one historian called the period. The phrase appealed to him. He had
lately wandered through the mystic halls of Northern gods and heroes and
deplored the decay of their heroic spirit. He admired the heroic, and his
heart still wavered between the mighty Wodin and the meek and lowly
Christ. But the heroic age of Christianity--was it possible then that
Christianity too could rise to the heroic?

In the course of his study he read _The Early History of Prussia_ by A.
von Kotzebue in which the author, after ridiculing "the missionary zeal
that, like a fire on the steppes, caught the kings of Poland and
Scandinavia and moved them to frantic efforts for the conversion of
neighboring peoples," proudly stated, "But while her neighbors all
accepted Christianity and the withered cross drew steadily nearer to the
green oak, Prussia remained faithful to her ancient gods."

"The withered Cross!" The words stung Grundtvig to the quick. He hurled
the book away, sprang up and stormed about the room, vowing that he would
henceforth dedicate his life to the cause of the spurned emblem.

A few weeks of restless exaltation followed. He read his Bible, studied
Luther's catechism and pondered the ways and means of accomplishing a
reform of his church, especially a reform inspired by pen and ink. But
his _New Year's Night_, a small book published during this period, shows
his still troublesome uncertainty, his constant wavering between the old
gods and the Christ of the Gospels, between various degrees of
Rationalism and a full acceptance of the mystery of the cross. In a
mighty hymn of praise to the suffering Savior, he wrote many years later:
"Yes, my heart believes the wonder of Thy cross, which ages ponder"--but
he had yet to pass through the depths before he could say that. Even so,
he now exultingly wrote: "On the rim of the bottomless abyss toward which
our age is blindly hastening, I will stand and confront it with a
picture, illumined by two shining lights, the Word of God, and the
testimony of history. As long as God gives me strength to lift up my
voice, I will call and admonish my people in His name."

But from this pinnacle of proud exultation, he was suddenly hu