Baptist Missionary Training School - Beacon Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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--- THE BEACON lli GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY HYMN CTune: Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee j Praising thee we raise our tribute. Faith was ever the foundation A Founders of our Training School. Of thy patient, hopeful love, Your ideals we ever cherish - And through years of tribulation We would live the Golden Rule. Came your guidance from above. Through ' thy constant prayer and We would e'er fulfill your vision, Plilfllllflg Our example, Christ to be: Alma Mater came to be. Consecrated to our mission, 'Cross the years a bridge is spanning, Serving Him and honoring thee. Builded of our love for thee. Mae E. Hunter. 1 1 f CLASS HISTORY CCon1inued from page IXD In February the Seniors entertained the Juniors at an 'Old Barn' party in the gym. No one could have been anything but joyous on that occasion. For a few hours you would scarcely have recognized the girls. The Junior girls. dressed as farmerettes, were gaily joined in the playing of old-fashioned games by their Senior escorts in overalls. Mae Hunter, with her clever auctioneerilng of the lunch boxes, was no more popular than Miss Tuller as the best-looking man on the floor. Miss Brimson and Miss, Williamson were most charming and demure country maidens in their gingham dresses. The Senior Class has been pervaded by a spirit of love and loyalty through- out its history. Though one of the largest classes in years it has been strongly united and co-operative, with Miss Tuller a vital part of the bond of friendship existing in the class. ' We never crossed her threshold with a grief But that we went without it. Never came Heart hungry but she fed us, eased the blame And gave the sorrow solace and relief. We never left her but we took away The love that drew us to her side again.' In March we welcomed two new girls to the Senior group: Laura Fish and Eva Gruen. It was in this month, too. that we received that much longed for invitation to the Junior-Senior Banquet, which was given the evening of April thirteenth. There is not time to tell you about the banquet and the party the Seniors gave the Freshmen later in the month. These last few weeks have been so filled with studies and social activities that I hardly realize that we are in the midst of Commencement festivities, and the Seniors are almost alumnae. Just the other night one of them talked with me, and when I told her how I would miss them. she said to me, 'Alma Mater, it is true that we are happy to be going out into a bigger service - the work for which we have spent these years in preparation -but we are sad to part from you. Our hearts are filled with love for one who has nourished our bodies, minds, and souls through days of preparation. Words cannot express what you mean in our lives. Only in the spirit of true service. giving Unto Him Our Best, can we ever hope to fulfill the ideals of Jesus which you have interpreted to us.' M. N. 46

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---- THE BEACON i-- Rocelia: In how many languages can you say 'good-bye', Miss Simpson? You know, it's 'au reuoir' in French, 'adios' in Spanish, 'sionara' in Japanese, and Miss Simpson: Yes, but carbolic acid is 'good-bye' in any language. Doris Lea: Well, I don't cry like a normal person. You'd better be psychoanalyzed. Doris. Setsuko thelping the waitress change coursesj : Now, may I dust the table? Clt must have been Miss Sirnpson's tablelj Sally Con bells, calling third floorj : Miss Fielden--. Miss Fielden rushed madly down three flights of stairs, expecting to find a telephone caller. Sally: Miss Fielden, have you seen Ruby Eaton? Dorothy Hare: Is my hair coming down? Raffaelaz It looks as if it's struggling to stay up. Mae Hunter Cduring thesis timej : Suppose you were in my shoes. What would you do? Thoughtful Room-mate: I'd shine them. Miss Spencer: I like reviews in music lessons about as well as I like reviews in salads. Miss Simpson fserving saladj : I feel as if I were eating my relatives: this has been around so long. Doctor at Life Extension: I-Iave you had any operations? Virginia Cox: No. M. D. Clooking at throatj : Where are your tonsils? V. C.: Oh, I had those out. Louise Jeffers frehearsing for public speakingj : I see a man in India -. M. Newell: I can't even see a man in Chicago. Mr. Paustian: What would you do with a million dollars? Genevieve Phipps Cone of Miss Tuller's struggling piano studentsj: I'd go abroad and study music. CWe suggest her spending it on gum-drops. At least it wouldn't be wasted if she spent it that way.j ' RELIGIOUS LIFE fContinued from page 302 intimate communion with Him. The Saturday night prayer meeting and the Sunday morning devotional service bring strength for the Held work activities for the week end. Let us out by some hour of every day For holy things ! - whether it be when dawn Peers thru the window nane, or when the noon Flames. thru a burnished topaz, in the vault, Or when a thrush pours in the ear of eve Its painted monody: some little hour Wherein to hold rapt converse with the soul. From sordidness and self a sanctuary. Swept by the winnowing of unseen wings, And touched by the White Light Ineffable l - Clinton Scollard. 45

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-.--- THE BEACON ----- CLASS PROPI-IECY fContinued from page 191 Then on a giant shelf I saw a row of newly bound books, some of which bore familiar names: K How I Got To My Wedding on Time, by M. Allen. What's in a Name? by Marie Leota. Place of Poetry in Basket Ball, by I... Jeffers. 'jSam, That Old Accordion Man, by B. Gillies. The Premature Golf Course on the Mission Field, by R. White. It seems that everything Eva had done since she left school just Grue'n C1rue'n grew! She had just completed a three-foot book shelf with two legs when Adele came to bo'rrow it for her Spuzzy Tea Room in Kalamazoo. Then I heard Pearl Vilhauer preach from her own translation of the New Testament, which seemed to be all over the students' heads, but I knew Pearl was thinking That's the kind of a man I am! She had also written a pamph- let glorifying The Traditions of B. M. T. S. Anna Mize and Rose Williams have composed their own Military Mayonnaise and can distinguish it from Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song four out of every five times. Then I caught a glimpse of Bernice Allen, distinguished judge of the Juve- nile Court, dispensing justice with a precision and accuracy which any Supreme Court Judge might envy. A little boy who gave his name as Richard Swenson was being questioned in regard to a queer contraption he had been playing with, that all too closely resembled a machine-gun. But his answers revealed that it was a combination lawn-mower and neck-clip which his mother, Ada Nelson, had just patented. A row of homey looking little cottages came into view next and I watched Jerry Yotty wisely and tenderly conducting her home for orphaned elephants. I couldn't quite recognize the girl who was carrying water to the elephants, but it looked like Anna Mize. Marjorie Bradshaw, secretary to the author of If Not, Why Not? had come down to the home for the week-end to recuperate. After ten or ifteen years of intensive research, Nancy suddenly found the answer to What is love? And she said she hadn't found it in a book either. Then I saw something that almost made me lose my balance in sheer surprise. There was Daesie upon a step-ladder, painting billboards for the Wrigley Gum Company. I asked her what she was working for and she said Ten cents a day. She could see that I wasn't very much impressed by that magnificent sum but she explained that the billboard company paid her board-bill so it was not such a bad salary after all. Leona Bushnell was spending many weeks in her kindergarten of city chil- dren working out a farm project but she gave up in despair when one asked what kind of cows gave buttermilk. Doris Lea was playing a pink ukelele on the Isle of Man. where she had been made honorary musician to the D. S. C.1 Margaret Newell came into view next with the fever of invention lighting her eye, still working on her theory of growing zippers on celery and string beans. Janet Byron was running a fruit vessel up and down the coast of Africa, working on the invention of a non-skid banana peel in her spare time. I saw Alma Schilke back in B. M, T. S. with a tuning fork trying to tune the squeaks in ' Department of Street Cleaning. fConcIuded on page 482 47