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Ambrosius Stub was born on the island of Fyn in 1705, the son of a village tailor. Although extremely poor, he managed somehow to enter the University of Copenhagen, but his poverty compelled him to leave the school without completing his course. For a number of years, he drifted aimlessly, earning a precarious living by teaching or bookkeeping at the estates of various nobles, always dogged by poverty and a sense of frustration. Although he was gifted and ambitious, his lack of a degree and his continuous poverty prevented him from attaining the position in life to which his ability apparently entitled him. During his later years, he conducted a small school for boys at Ribe, a small city on the west coast of Jutland, where he died in abject poverty in 1758, only 53 years old.

Stub’s work remained almost unknown during his lifetime, but a small collection of his poems, published after his death, gained him a posthumous recognition as the greatest Danish poet of the 18th century. Stub’s style is extremely noble and expressive, devoid of the excessive bombast and sentimentality that many writers then mistook for poetry. He was of a cheerful disposition with a hopeful outlook upon life that only occasionally is darkened by 162 the hardships and disappointments of his own existence. Even the poems of his darker moods are colored by his inborn love of beauty and his belief in the fundamental goodness of life. Many of his best poems are of a religious nature, and expressive of his warm and trustful Christian faith. In view of the discouraging hardships and disappointments of his own life, the following much favored hymn throws a revealing light upon the spirit of its author.

8,7,8,7,7,7

Stub, Ambrosius, 1705-1758

tr., J. C. Aaberg

Undismayed by any fortune

Life may have in store for me,

This, whatever be my portion,

I will always try to be.

If I but in grace abide,

Undismayed whate’er betide.

Undismayed when others harry

Mind and soul with anxious care;

If the Lord with me will tarry,

All my troubles disappear.

If I but in grace abide,

Undismayed whate’er betide.

Undismayed when others sighing,

Quail before the evil day,

On God’s grace I am relying;

Nothing can me then dismay.

If I but in grace abide,

Undismayed whate’er betide.

Undismayed when others fearing,

See the hour of death draw nigh.

With the victor’s crown appearing,

Why should I repine and sigh.

If I but in grace abide,

Undismayed whate’er betide.

Dearest Lord, if I may treasure

Thy abundant grace each day,

I shall cherish Thy good pleasure,

Be my portion what it may.

If I but in grace abide,

Undismayed whate’er betide.

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