Lincoln University - Lion Yearbook (Lincoln University, PA)

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♦ SOME MEMBERS OF THE FACULTY Professors Barber, Nkrumah, Havilancl, Hall and Wilson Professor Gaskins confers with two Seniors II

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Message from the Dean of the Seminary Three decades ago—how swiftly they have fied!—the writer and his fellows of the Class of 1915 stood where you now stand, waiting with ardent eagerness the summons to go out, not knowing whither . . . It is now your Day. Yours is a strange, fateful hour. War clouds still hang heavily. Visions of peace are distorted by dictates of imperialism, aggression and greed. Tyrannies of race and class still seek to maintain their evil sway. You will not find it a happy world. But the struggle into which you will enter is not without oppor- tunity or hope. However dark the picture may appear, all is not lost, nor can it ever be, while God abides. And to you inalienably, irrevoca- bly there remains the privilege of choosing the way that your soul shall go. May your choice be the high way, and your going forth signalize the determination to share, with like-spirited humankind, a great and courageous adventure for a better world. To this purposeful end, let there be action . . .and honor . . . end faith! From the pages of the Eternal Word comes a timeless message, at once a challenge and a benediction: Ee strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest. ID Jesse Belmont Barber.

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The halls resound the echoes that alone remain Of life that was returned to look upon its grave; Where fret the shallow youth of early age. Y here are they now who loved this sacred soil. Lived joyously among the stately pines; and Laughed above the green-clad hills that roll and twine Braiding the hair of seasons into a frame. For that fair jewel beset within her brow? A gem of unknown worth, but to those who once Adorned the noble Orange and Blue, that mantle of renown! The stars clad themselves in grief, to mourn for The bobbing heads, no longer beneath the pillowed sky In boyish pranks, and romping frolic spending Of a day well read . . . the waning hours. For now the carefree songs of blissful glee Are changed into a monody, and wishful sighs Replace those merrier notes of laughter. The bell tolls! no longer ringing loud and clear. A skeleton of the past trods across the green. A weary few to take a place among the empty seats. And strain to hear the old familiar voices answer—“Mere ' This seat for Stan! This seat for Budd! Why are they late? Not late—but gone! Harsh words to fall upon a buddy's ear. The tide moves out each day and leaves a thinning number Within those breasts a heart is aflame with the smoldering embers That alone remain ... of memories dear.