Olivet Nazarene University - Aurora Yearbook (Bourbonnais, IL)

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(Lovingly dedi TN genial Nature ' s lovely verdant fold A Serene, joyous, and spotless thcu dost lie. How sweet and beauteous art thou to behold As thou thy prayer-lit eyes turn ' st to the sky! Our heartstrings around thee lovingly we twine O Olivet belov ' d, our School, our Shrine Far sweeter than the songbird ' s sweetest lay Is the rich silent music of thy soul Borne on the wings of Faith by night and day Where golden years of endless glory roll ; And loftier than the lofty welkin blue Are thy unworldly thoughts, Olivet U. The straight and upward path made by thy feet Leads silently our pilgrim souls above To blissful Heaven ' s secret holy Seat, And ever preaches Life ' s best sermon: Love, Obey, fear, glorify, and worship God; Believe in Him who saved us by His blood. Page Sixteen ated to the Faculty and Students) In thy secluded but not lonesome bow ' r O how we dearly love to ever be ! Safe and secure from Satan ' s tempting pow ' r With joy we sing ' midst life ' s wild, restless sea. Our piayers, our deeds, our love, O Olivet Are all for thee that thou mayst become greater yet. When softly comes the dark and weary night Of life, may thou thy long rays cast for e ' er; O bright, O true, far-reaching holy Light! Unveil the Cross to the forlorn wanderer : Sb ' ne on! — dispel the gloom of sin, and guide Him Home that he may with the Lord abide. Olivet, to us thou ' lt ever be The same pure school and shrine dear to our heart ; And with our life ' s days will our love for thee Grow deeper, unpretentious as thou art: For thou hast shown us the path the Lamb had trod, And taught Salvation ' s way through Christ to God. Alfredo Q. Gonzalez.

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M. EDWARD BORDERS, A.B., A.M. Where there is no vision, the people perish. THE wise man in the long ago gave expression to this terse, trite, and unique text. This ancient, yet modern truism is not only applicable to the church but is equally so to an educational institution, and indeed is irrevocably and indispen- sably necessary to progress and attainment along any line of human life. A vis- ion! What wonderful and limitless possibilities are in- volved in this magic word! A man with a burning vis- ion cannot be permanently hampered or hindered by heights of honor, depths of suffering, weights of respon- sibility, by unfavorable location, or lengths and breadths of space. A burning vision will carry one anywhere in God ' s illimitable universe and enable him to accom- plish, in the name of God, anything in the realm of the possible, and many times, what appears to be absolutely the impossible. No man has ever gone beyond the horizon line of his ideals. No one has ever reached the goal of the extraor dinary and the unusual without dreams and visions. Michael Angelo, sitting in his crude studio, in a moment of inspiration, caught a vision of something far in advance of his day. At once he began to chip, chisel, and carve upon an old marble slab taken from the refuse of his back yard; and one day unveiled to an amazed and admiring world a realization of the dream of his heart. It was a vision that enabled the wonderful Raphael to transfer the Madonna of his dreams to the Madonna of his paint brush. What he did back there has endured for three centuries, but his ideal was on the canvas of his great artist ' s heart long befoie it was on the canvas of his easel. Generations have gazed enraptured at the work of this master of art, and have immortalized him, and all because he gave to the world his burning vision. Beethoven tells us of his polished symphony — how that in his dreams he had heaid the music of Heaven and could scarcely trust his trembling hand to write the things that he had seen and heard . It was a vision that enabled England ' s greatest statesman, Gladstone, in the time of a moral and social crisis, to cry out, Ten thousand deaths, ere I stain the purity of my conscience; that made Patrick Henry, the erstwhile store-keeper, in the House of Commons, to shout in the ears of his vacillating colleagues, Give me liberty, or give me death. It was a vision that made John Knox cry, Give me Scotland, Page Seventeen