Notre Dame Scholastic, Vol. 22, No. 01
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xV rCH :t; PTRETIAHESEHDIIAJTIE ^iSCE'QMSI.SEHPEfi.YlCTimirS YIYE- QU55I • CB3S • HORITURUs VOL. XXII. NOTRE DAME, INDIANA, AUGUST 25, 1888. No. i. CariJien. LTp through the ether, blue, serene. ^^'Q'X'^^ Crowned by God's angels, borne by His might Into His Heart; O Virgin Queen, Thou dost ascend to the Lord of Light. Brush of the painter Raphael, Soul of ]Murillo, pious, high. Heart of Angelico,—each did well Three Song's. A part of Love's work in days gone by! Up throug'h the ether, blue, serene. IN HONOR OF THE VICRY REV. ED\V.\RD SORl.V, C. S. C. Towers Vour dome in the New World's light; August ij, iSSS. To the Old World's tributes its golden sheen Adds n&w splendor, through Love's great might. r.Y JCAURICK l--R.4.XCrS KGAX. Brusli of the painter Raphael, Soul of Murillo,grave and high; Love from all lands has brought you golden gifts, Artists of old, your best thoughts dwell Hope from all lands wafts golden prayers on high. Around this dome in the azure skvl Faith in all lands the golden chalice lifts,— For you, O Blessed, Earth entreats the sky. O Father, I will add a little song— Rome blesses you—the Pope, in his yeai", sends .A. little song of longing and of youth : His love most gracious on Our Lady's Day; Not writ to-day. but not writ very long. A train of pilgrims to your cloister wends. Of that dear land you love in very truth. To strew their golden wishes in your way. No martial hymn it is, no joyous chaimt And 1 shall offer of my very best,— Of triumphs won—for this dear land has few; Some songs, some verses from a loving heart; Her sorrow is her crown, her sad dreams haunt Poor as they are, let them go with the rest. Her very prayers, but urging prayers anew. Gold-lighted by the Day, to fill their part. Song. Poor as tliey are I—but I will make them fair For your true eyes, in spite of fault of mine. When .-Vpril rains make blossoms bloom. By praising Her—Our Lady—Rose most rare. .•\nd Johnny-jump-ups come to light, Mother of God, most pure, most sweet, divine!— • .And clouds of color and perfume Float from the orchards pink and white; ~ " Divine through Him, as is the JMoon through Sun,— I see my shamrock in the rain— Divine, refulgent, fairer than the moon; An emerald spray with brilliants set— Reflecting Him Divine, the light of One A jewel on Spring's Coronet,— In Three, in Her, ,the Mystery Triune. So fair, and yet it hints of pain. And you, O Father, you have niade a sign The shamrock on an older shore Of her Assumption, hanging,'splendid, there: Sprang from a rich and sacred soil. A dome of gold, which in each curving line Where saint and hero lived of yore, Tells of our Sovereign's radiant path thro' air. .A.nd where their sons in sorrow toil: THE NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC. And here, transplanted, it to me Seems -weeping for the soil it left; Sermon Delivered on tlie Occasion of the The diamonds that all others see Sacerdotal Golden Jubilee of Very Rev. Are tears drawn from its heart bereft. E. Sorin, C. S. O. When April rains make spring-flowers grow. And sparkle on their tiny buds HY THE MOST REV. JOHN IRELAND, D. D., That in June nights will overblow ArcJibisJiop of St. Paul. And fill the woi'ld with scented floods; The lonely shamrock in our land— "And he that had received the five talents coming, So fine among the clover-leaves— brought other five talents, saying: Lord, Thou didst de (I feel its tears upon my hand) liver to me five talents: behold 1 have gained other five For the old springtime often grieves. over and above. His Lord said to him: Well done, good and faithful servant, because thou hast been faithful over And here's a song of hope, a song of spring. a few things 1 will place thee over many things; enter Which well befits you, cheeriest of all,— thou into the joy of thy Lord." (JM.ATTH., XXV, 20, 21.) A song by Charles of Orleans, with a ring The supreme perfection of God, theologians Of old-time courtliness in castle hall. tell us. consists in this, that there is in Him the It is an echo from the pleasant land plenitude of act—actus piirissbiius. Fie is all That gave us hope in night, and gives us you,— that He might be; He owns no latent, undevel You who have clasped our country by the hand, And put a ring of wedding on it, too. oped power, no mere potentiality. "Be you perfect as also your heavenly Father is perfect." Forswearing not your France, but yet in soul. The distance removing from us the Infinite is In heart, and work, O dear and honored Priest. immense, immeasurable, and yet the Master A part of us; and if we claim the whole, Forgive our fault of Love on this great feast. gives us for our feeble efforts the Infinite as the ideal, and bids us see, in the outlines of His be "Le temps" (it runs) "a laissie son mantcau " : ing mirrored through our intellect, the tracings So blithely sung among \\\e. fleur-de-lis. A Prince of France, I dedicate to you we need follow in journeying toward our own Its paraphrase: and may your joy increase! finite perfection. The perfect man is he who. Koiiefel. in his strugglings toward the good and the Old Time has cast his mantle down, noble, brings into act all his powers, whose life Embroidered by the wind and rain. is full, who is all that he might have been and And shown himself with flower-chain does all that he might have done. The good In vesture fair and jewelled crown: servant of the Gospel is the one who has doubled No man or beast in field or town But in his language maketh plain the talents entrusted to him. whether it was Old Time has dropped his mantle down two he had received or five. Perfection is rel Of ice and frost into the main. ative; it is limited by each one's resources and River and pool have doffed their gown opportunities. Each one does what he can. and Of sombre hue for trappings vain; the jSlaster's ^velcomc awaits him; "Well done, They flaunt in silver through the plain, Instead of tints of muddv brown,— good and faithful servant—enter into the joy Old Time has cast his mantle down I of thy Lord." The bad, the useless servant, for whom the Master has but words of severest re Prince of the little Princes, thus a Prince— buke, is he who gained nothing, although losing Your Charles of Orleans—sings of youth renewed; nothing; who. most foolish in his prudence, hid And you are ever j^oung,—you must be, since in the earth the talent, lest it be lost. God hates You live in youth by mere years unsubdued;— the idle, the unprofitable, the do-nothing man. You live in youth by reason*of the love Material nature reads us a lesson. The tree Which binds young hearts so closely to your own; putting forth abundant leaves in springtime, There's no frost in your soul, no withering of failing in autumn to redeem its promises, is ac The springtime-buds with which your path is sown. cursed. The tree, whose every branch whitens Time casts his cloak away when you come near,— with blossom and in due season bends beneath Forgets to frown, and sets his gold flowers free : the weight of luscious fruit, is fair to earth and Years cannot freeze the soul to God's heart near,— Eternal youth be vours eternallv ! heaven, the pride of the field that shelters its roots. VENERABLE PRIEST, whom to honor, the princes of your people, your brethren, your spiritual children to the third and fourth generations are assembled, celebrating with you a solemn anniversary—be it mine to THE NOTRE DAME SCHOLASTIC. o salute you on this auspicious day, and in words What graces for the sanctification of self and which, we are confident, the Master Himself is . others! Each day there is the right to call sweetly whispering to your soul, say to you: down upon the altar the Lamb Immaculate and "Well done, good and faithful servant." Your offer Him in sacrifice. The'priest bears the keys days have been full. No talent was left by you of the Kingdom of Heaven. He is the guardian unused. The autumn is come for you, and the of Sacramental Springs, from which in ceaseless rich fruits of your life perfume the land. flow issue the waters of life. You will permit that I draw from your priest What forces for the doing of good! Divine hood thoughts for my discourse. I do not mean truth sparkles upon the lips of the priest. The to flatter or to praise you. This were unworthy mantle of divine authority waves from his of your life, and of mv ministrv. I mean to shoulders. His hands distil grace and blessings. give with you glory to whom glory belongs, to The priesthood it is that shattered the false thank with you the Lord God for all that in gods of imperial Rome, and made the pagan His goodness He has wrought through you.