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Page 15 text:
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THE ECHO 9 Are You Going Home for Christmas? Ile little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair: Ile never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd surely have been there: Ile couldn't see his mother or the lump that filled her throat, Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty noteg And he couldn't see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb, Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn't come. He little knew the gladness that his presence would have made, And the joy it would have given or he never would have stayed. He didn't know how hungry had the little mother grown, Once again to see her baby and to claim him for her own. i He didn't guess the meaning of his visit Christ- mas Day - Or he never would have written that he couldn't get away. He couldn't see the fading of the cheeks that once were pink, And the silver in the tressesg and he didn't stop N to think How the years are passing swiftly, and next Christmas it might be There would be no home to visit and no Mother dear to see. He didn't think about it-I'll not say he didn't care, He was heedless and forgetful or he'd surely have been there. Are you going home for Christmas? Have you H written you'll be there? Going home to kiss the mother and to show her that you care? Going home to greet the father in a way to make him glad? If you're not I hope there never comes a time you'll wish you had. just sit down and write a letter-it will make their heart strings hum VVitl1 a tune of perfect gladness-if you'll tell them that you'll come. . -Submitted by'NoRBERT NYELCH. '26. Yes, the Alumni Game. He Came The time has rforne, it's flhristrnas night, ln time of peafw: he fame, your right, A joyous band of angels sing, The heavens with saintly ting. Caesar Augustus then reigned with ease. liut now a king of prayer and peafe Replaced this crown of an ancient day. The one who came to mend our ways. Ilow big his heart and mind must be, 'l'o come that night for love of thee, And if for thee, that night he came, Why not repay to llim the same. VVill Christian go on bended knee 'l'o give in prayer these thoughts to Thee VVho came that night in bitter cold, To earth, to Bethlehem of old. -LUKE Betor. '24. Make the Alumni Game the best yet. Christmas Day C-Is for the Chimes that peal the tidings to all the world on Christmas day: H-Is for the Hearts that are made happy as they scatter joy along the way: R-Reveals to us, the right of others yearning for a chance to live: and I-Inspires us to do a kindness and saeritice that we may give: S-Is for the Smile that's wreathed with sorrow. when grief is deep in this world of strife: T-The Tender Thoughts that soothe the spirit as we bravely bear our cross through life: M-Is for the Mercy God has shown us as we've traveled down life's long trail: A-Is for the Absence of a loved one which brings memories of the past: S-Is for the Shepherd on the hillside Caring for his wounded sheep: D-Is for Duty. to God and country. a devotion. true and deep: A--Is for the Angel. who is given to guide us. without fail: Y-Is for the Year we have spent in longing for the reward that we know will last. --Luis B1:1.o'r, 'J-1.
10 THE C hristmas. Thoughts . In every village, regardless of its size, there always is some simple home which has a halo of respect encircling it. Such a home is reverenced by the most hard- hearted of the community. Burton had several such homes but there was one poor but cozy cottage noted for the kind widow that lived there. Her name was Mrs. McGinity, nevertheless she did not pos- sess that rigidity of will which character- ized the people of her ancestry. Her only son, john, was lead astray while young because his mother allowed him his own way too often. john soon wandered away from the narrow path of virtue and took the easier highway of vice. After forging many checks in his own town, he was detected and sent to spend a term in jail. He jumped his bond and went to the slums of a near-by city, where he was shelteredfrom the search of de- tectives. Mrs. McGinity, in her grief for the loss of her beloved boy, felt conscience bound to repay the men who had given the money for her boy's bond. Her kind husband left only their residence, as he was on the bot- tom oft the ladder when he died. The widow mortgaged her home and for almost twenty long years she worked in almost servitude to pay off her debt. It was at the end of the score of years, and the day before Christmas, when the kind old lady sat meditating of happier days, before the fireplace. She recalled to memory the mornings she used to wake john, so that he could serve early mass in the village church. Especiallylon Christ- mas she would accompany him and kneel before the altar. When the small family gathered around the crib of jesus and there lay gifts before Him, and pray that their happiness should ever last thus. In the' midst of her meditation she uttered aloud, John, john, come to your broken-hearted mother, you cannot realize the torture and .ECHO pain you are causing me, lest you would not return. ' ' john had never written to his mother, on account of the fact that he always tried to make one more robbery and then return with the amount of his bond to his mother. But ere he could escape he was traced and had to serve another term in prison. When he completed his years of servitude for his last forgery, he determined to return home, even though he might not own the clothes that he wore on his back. Accordingly, John boarded an under- slung chair car for his home town. Ar- riving at the railroad yards of his village, he accidentally slipped in his hurry to get away from the watchman. His right leg was completely severed from his body. He was picked up by his own mother, who was gathering stray bits of coal which had fallen from the passing engines. Not rec- ognizing her son because of his long growth of beard, she opened his coat to find some means of identification. She found a photograph of herself, which she had given to her son when he was but a child. She embraced him and exclaimed: My boy, my prayer has been answered. but you have paid dearly for your wild lifefl john was rushed to the hospital, and the mother and son spent Christmas Day in the convalescent ward, relating to each other reminiscences of happier days. Mother, your countenance portrays still that beauty of my childhood days,,that I cherish, and it is beauty grown old with the wrinkles of my thoughtlessnessf' We all err, Johnfg' replied the mother in a sweet voice. What more heavenly simplicity is im- plied in that sentence, when a mother for- gives in a second the wrongs that the prod- igal son took years to do! Yet this forgiveness cannot be compared with the forgiveness of Our Divine Lord, who was born on Christmas Day for our redemption. at ' ' ' I CLARENCE KALIKER, '24. 0 1000 IVHIQQ QQAR
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