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let down and looked wonderfully large and beautiful with its silken
sails and rigging：
〃The ropes were of silk； the anchor of gold；
And everywhere riches and pomp untold；〃
as the old song says。
The young couple went on board； accompanied by the whole
congregation； for there was room and enjoyment for them all。 Then
the walls and arches of the church were covered with flowering
junipers and lime trees breathing forth fragrance； the branches waved；
creating a pleasant coolness； they bent and parted； and the ship
sailed between them through the air and over the sea。 Every candle
in the church became a star； and the wind sang a hymn in which they
all joined。 〃Through love to glory； no life is lost； the future is
full of blessings and happiness。 Hallelujah！〃 These were the last
words Jurgen uttered in this world； for the thread that bound his
immortal soul was severed； and nothing but the dead body lay in the
dark church； while the storm raged outside； covering it with loose
sand。
The next day was Sunday； and the congregation and their pastor
went to the church。 The road had always been heavy； but now it was
almost unfit for use； and when they at last arrived at the church； a
great heap of sand lay piled up in front of them。 The whole church was
completely buried in sand。 The clergyman offered a short prayer； and
said that God had closed the door of His house here； and that the
congregation must go and build a new one for Him somewhere else。 So
they sung a hymn in the open air； and went home again。
Jurgen could not be found anywhere in the town of Skjagen； nor
on the dunes； though they searched for him everywhere。 They came to
the conclusion that one of the great waves； which had rolled far up
on the beach； had carried him away； but his body lay buried in a
great sepulchre… the church itself。 The Lord had thrown down a
covering for his grave during the storm； and the heavy mound of sand
lies upon it to this day。 The drifting sand had covered the vaulted
roof of the church； the arched cloisters； and the stone aisles。 The
white thorn and the dog rose now blossom above the place where the
church lies buried； but the spire； like an enormous monument over a
grave； can be seen for miles round。 No king has a more splendid
memorial。 Nothing disturbs the peaceful sleep of the dead。 I was the
first to hear this story； for the storm sung it to me among the
sand…hills。
THE END
。