Immaculata Academy - Lilium Convallium Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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LILIUM CONVALLIUM 11 Rev. XV. A. Daly Rev. B. V. Kelly Rev. T. Tobin A Word of Appreciation Immaculata Academ and the Dominican Sisters ex ress their rofound H Y P P gratitude to the Reverend Fathers, W. A. Daly, Pastor of Immaculate Heart Church, B. V. Kelly, Pastor of Blessed Sacrament Church, and T. Tobin, Assistant Pastor of the Church of the Madaleine, who conducted Courses in Religion during the past year. Their coming to us each Week despite the many demands u on their time is a uni ue favor. P fl The best proof of gratitude which the students can give will be their devoted service to Holy Mother Church and to our Country by upholding Catholic principles and practice in whatever field their lot may be cast.

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10 LILIUM CONVALLIUM i 1.-. H' ,. Qaksfxd' N - .90 DAL vA'r1cANo,. February ami, 1926 ETERMDXQ ' we se. ni Sup. SANTITA ...M- cv L. ,,. N ,2245 llkrlluwl sLLLA Rl-Ft FA Stulonta of lmmuoulatc Academy S Portland, Oreron - lt is.my pleasing duty to inform you that the Holy Father has graciously accepted your presentation copy of Hlilium Convulliwdh His Holiness npvrnciutcs thi? evidence of your homuee and filiul devotion to the Holy Seo and loyiiely muscles Ofllgiltl all the zlpovcoliu asfnaiccion. Very faithfully mourn in lhriat 7 f. cf,6,,,,.. A Message from the Holy Father As 1925 was the Holy Year of Jubilee, the students of lmmaculata Academy felt honored in presenting a leather bound, illuminated copy of Lilium Convallium to his Holiness, our Holy Father, Pope Pius XI. In acknowledgment, His Holiness manifested his futherly kindness in the above letter.

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12 LILIUM CONVALLIUM Only a Seashell From out the shell, from out the sea There came to me a melody, A tiny voice, a memory Imparted to my soul. A memory in monotone Of happy ages 'neath the foam, The shell's immortal dream of home Out where the great waves roll. Faint echoes of the mighty sea, Dark storms that rage in majesty, Fair colors, beauty, mystery Dwell in that tale it brings. The booming surf, the ceaseless tide Are there. The mermaid's dirge prolonged In myriad echoes murmurs long Within the song it sings. -MARY BARNES, 'z6. The Master's Judgment The day was drawing to a close. Inside the School of Life, the pupils had finished their work for the day. The busy hum of the looms and the rhythmic darting of the shuttle were srilled. In strained expectancy the pupils sat waiting for the Master's examination of their life work. One pupil sat in hopeless silence. In shame he hid his face, for he saw nothing but the tangled dusty pattern of his weaving-his work for the day. Early in the morning, with high hopes he had begung all through the weary hours he had toiled, trying to give his dream being. But the fibres had snapped and flown, the threads became knotted and uneven, and the lovely colors were faded, gray, and lifeless. The Master was drawing nearer. Soon the pupil would have to show the Lord of the Looms his work. He heard the Master praise his gentle neighbor's beautiful weaving. As he saw Him regard it approvingly, a fresh wave of shame flooded him. Is it done? In answer the Servant handed the Master his work and waited for the words of reproach or pity that would decide his lot. But no words came from the lips of the Master and, looking up in fear, the Servant saw Him lovingly trace the slender thread of the pattern. In one brief moment of revelation, the Servant saw the whole transformed. The azure of the blue shone through the cobwebby meshes of the gold. The Servant knew that he had been judged, not by the quality of his work, but by what he had striven so hard to do. -DOLORES POSVAR, 'z6.