the shifting sands had covered the graves in the courtyard， quite up to the churchwalls， but still， the dead must be buried among their relatives and the dear ones who hadgone before them. Merchant Bronne and his wife now rested with their children under the whitesand.
It was in the spring—the season of storms. The sand from the dunes was whirled up inclouds; the sea was rough， and flocks of birds flew like clouds in the storm， screamingacross the sand-hills. Shipwreck followed upon shipwreck on the reefs between Old Skagen andthe Huusby dunes.
One evening Jorgen sat in his room alone： all at once his mind seemed to become clearer，and a restless feeling came over him， such as had often， in his younger days， driven him outto wander over the sand-hills or on the heath. “Home， home!” he cried. No one heard him.He went out and walked towards the dunes. Sand and stones blew into his face， and whirledround him; he went in the direction of the church. The sand was banked up the walls， halfcovering the windows， but it had been cleared away in front of the door， and the entrancewas free and easy to open， so Jorgen went into the church.
the storm raged over the town of Skagen; there had not been such a terrible tempestwithin the memory of the inhabitants， nor such a rough sea. But Jorgen was in the temple ofGod， and while the darkness of night reigned outside， a light arose in his soul that was neverto depart from it; the heavy weight that pressed on his brain burst asunder. He fancied heheard the organ， but it was only the storm and the moaning of the sea. He sat down on oneof the seats， and lo! the candies were lighted one by one， and there was brightness andgrandeur such as he had only seen in the Spanish cathedral. The portraits of the old citizensbecame alive， stepped down from the walls against which they had hung for centuries， andtook seats near the church door. The gates flew open， and all the dead people from thechurchyard came in， and filled the church， while beautiful music sounded. Then the melody ofthe psalm burst forth， like the sound of the waters， and Jorgen saw that his foster parentsfrom the Huusby dunes were there， also old merchant Bronne with his wife and theirdaughter Clara， who gave him her hand. They both went up to the altar where they had kneltbefore， and the priest joined their hands and united them for life. Then music was heardagain; it was wonderfully sweet， like a child's voice， full of joy and expectation， swelling tothe powerful tones of a full organ， sometimes soft and sweet， then like the sounds of atempest， delightful and elevating to hear， yet strong enough to burst the stone tombs ofthe dead. Then the little ship that hung from the roof of the choir was let down and lookedwonderfully 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 wasroom and enjoyment for them all. Then the walls and arches of the church were covered withflowering junipers and lime trees breathing forth fragrance; the branches waved， creating apleasant coolness; they bent and parted， and the ship sailed between them through the airand over the sea. Every candle in the church became a star， and the wind sang a hymn inwhich they all joined. “Through love to glory， no life is lost， the future is full of blessings andhappiness. Hallelujah!” These were the last words Jorgen uttered in this world， for the threadthat bound his immortal soul was severed， and nothing but the dead body lay in the darkchurch， 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. Theroad had always been heavy， but now it was almost unfit for use， and when they at lastarrived at the church， a great heap of sand lay piled up in front of them. The whole church wascompletely buried in sand. The clergyman offered a short prayer， and said that God hadclosed the door of His house here， and that the congregation must go and build a new onefor Him somewhere else. So they sung a hymn in the open air， and went home again.
Jorgen could not be found anywhere in the town of Skagen， nor on the dunes， thoughthey searched for him everywhere. They came to the conclusion that one of the GREatwaves， which had rolled far up on the beach， had carried him away; but his body lay buriedin a great sepulchre—the church itself. The Lord had thrown down a covering for his graveduring the storm， and the heavy mound of sand lies upon it to this day. The drifting sand hadcovered the vaulted roof of the church， the arched cloisters， and the stone aisles. The whitethorn and the dog rose now blossom above the place where the church lies buried， but thespire， like an enormous monument over a grave， can be seen for miles round. No king has amore splendid memorial. Nothing disturbs the peaceful sleep of the dead. I was the first tohear this story， for the storm sung it to me among the sand-hills.