Livingstone College - Livingstonian Yearbook (Salisbury, NC)

Page 25 text:

O! LIVINGSTONE!! — Clayton Chaney, ’42. I O, Livingstone! Pride of our college days, The acme of the fondest dreams we dream; Surely thou art a gift of God to men, Beneath thy light our talents rise and beam; O, Livingstone! Thou leadeth faithfully on, ’Til we’re triumphant in the breaking dawn. II O, Livingstone! When we are gone from thee, Dear to our hearts thy mem’ry will remain; Thou art our life, our joy, our ev’ry breath, Success assured, thou wilt our strength sustain; O, Livingstone! Whatever path we trod, We’re true to thee — true to thy guiding God. (Set to music to tune: Finlandia). ODE AT COMMENCEMENT — Clayton Chaney, ’42. What is Life to me, but thee? And what to feel, and breathe, and see? What tortured days, ’mid rush and haste Would mock my footsteps, ere the face Of dreaded night upon me fell, And fling me writhing into hell! Being for me is full of song. And Death that joy could but prolong; I’ll brave the wind, and storm, and strife, Fight boldly all the trials of life; Scale dizzy heights as yet unknown, Snatch distant truths into the known; With bursting strength strike down the foe, Rid cities great of all their woe; Bring blessed comfort to the earth, Spread wealth and peace ’round every hearth; Build towering structures to thy name, ’Til all mankind would know the fame Of one whom You had driven by pain To write his future — bold and plain. Fame? Could fortune smile upon my head? The Fates of Life with glory shed Upon the deeds that I might do And not concede it all to You? Within the scope of three score ten No blissful years the gods might send Could equal all the peace of mind That would be mine if I should find Your guiding hand upon my brow. Laugh? Dare I to smile with, truthful lips, Not speak the sorrow I must sip? Not cry aloud for aid from thee, Nor grasp your vision which I see? Speak? Put into words the irony That floods my soul, rolls over me And flows below into the sea Of tears that I have spilt? Never!! Not all the castles I have built. Not all the deeds that I have done, Nor all the vic’tries I have won Could fill the gasping, yawning maw Left where, enraptured, held in awe, I’m conquered — yours — for all my days.