oxology given above.

Bishop Ken looms as a heroic figure during turbulent times in English
history. Left an orphan in early childhood, he was brought up by his
brother-in-law, the famous fisherman, Izaak Walton. Ken's name has been
found cut in one of the stone pillars at Winchester, where he went to
school as a boy.

When, in 1679, the wife of William of Orange, the niece of the English
monarch, asked Charles II, king of England, to send an English chaplain
to the royal court at The Hague, Ken was selected for the position.
However, he was so outspoken in denouncing the corrupt lives of those in
authority in the Dutch capitol that he was compelled to leave the
following year. Charles thereupon appointed him one of his own chaplains.

Ken continued to reveal the same spirit of boldness, however, rebuking
the sins of the dissolute English monarch. On one occasion, when Charles
asked the courageous pastor to give up his own dwelling temporarily in
order that Nell Gwynne, a notorious character, might be housed, Ken
answered promptly: "Not for the King's kingdom."

Instead of punishing the bold and faithful minister, Charles so admired
his courage that he appointed him bishop of Bath and Wells.

Charles always referred to Ken as "the good little man" and, when it was
chapel time, he would usually say: "I must go in and hear Ken tell me of
my faults."

When Charles died, and the papist James II came to the throne, Ken,
together with six other bishops, was imprisoned in the Tower of London.
Although he was acquitted, he was later removed from his bishopric by
William III.

The last years of his life were spent in a quiet retreat, and he died in
1711 at the age of seventy-four years. He had requested that "six of the
poorest men in the parish" should carry him to his grave, and this was
done. It was also at his request that he was buried under the east window
of the chancel of Frome church, the service being held at sunrise. As his
body was lowered into its last resting-place, and the first light of dawn
came through the chancel window, his friends sang his immortal morning
hymn:

Awake, my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run.
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praise to the eternal King.

All praise to Thee, who safe h