Mercer University in Atlanta - Phoenix Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

Page 82 text:

An Afternoon Walk It was a beautiful late summer afternoon. A few white clouds drifted slowly toward the east as a warm wind stirred the -leaves of the trees overhead. The sunlight seemed to have saturated the world with joy and peace. Thank You, Father, for this fine day , Jared's son prayed silently as he walked along the edge of his fields. Every afternoon, he treasured the prospect of at least a short jaunt into the woods, but today his labors permitted him a large excursion and gave him time to see the other side of the river. Crossing at the ford, Jared's son moved reverently through the meadows and into the great forest at the foot of the mountain. He smiled as he heard the field mice scampering across the path behind him. God has been good to us this year , he thought. There is plenty to eat, fine clothing to wear, and a good home. Yes, God has been very good to us. He began to pray. God, l present myself to you today 'as your humble servant. You have been exceedingly good to me, and l have walked with You.-You have been my constant guide and friend, for- which I thank you. Thank you for my family, especially my fine, healthy son. Thank you for this beautiful world and for your promise for the future . . He paused for a minute as if to turn back, but felt strange- ly moved to walk onward. Lord, You know better than I.what I should do, he prayed out loud. For another hour he continued on his way, walking through the forest and praising God. He was conscious all the while that God was actually with him, he conversed freely, as with a friend. Lord, I never noticed that this hill was so steep before. It should be getting close to nightfall, but everything seems to be getting brighter. ' Then suddenly, he understood and smiled. And Enoch walked with God: and he was not, for God took him. , Ray Coleman Spider black is beautiful baby asleep on a bed of satin spun from diamonds as Sun touches your sleepy eyes Sandy Schwolgin You have wisdom beyond your years, He has years beyond hislwisdom, And l have wisdom-not to comment on my years. Ray Coleman The memories of a dying man, Weak, but yet so strong. Days of youth, Times so dear. Dying. Things that should have bee Words he should have said Fill his head - Can't forget - l Crying. Trying to forget the struggle Remember just-the good Try so hard. Blank out time. Sighing. Sighing as he ponders: Crying, he remembers Memories are old, Dying is new. Dying. n done once, David Banks

Page 81 text:

i 0f Life Prelude I sing of God, of love, of joy. of life. I sing of those I meet and where I've been. I sing of hope, of praise, of end to strife. I sing of the beginning and the end. I sing someday of one who will be my wife. The one who is nearer than the nearest friend: I sing of truth, which, sharper than a knife. The world from fear asunder soon would rend. But yet l sing imperfectly because. I am but mortal, subject to mistake, Yet hope that those who come might find my rhyme And poetry yet worth a little pause. Then listen well, of fuller life partake. And toward the goal together with me climb. Ray Coleman And he said to them all, if any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it. - Jesus Christ, Luke 9123-241 Deny himself ... and follow me. he said That day in Palestine so long ago. These words by countless thousands have been read, But so few in their lives these 'actions show. Deny himself is utterly opposed By ego, which would tower over all. And hearing thus, So many ears have closed That never hear the ending of the call. While those who hear and answer, I-lere am I, Who ask forgiveness, call upon His name. Receive abundant life. and never die. But live forever, Christ's great gift to claim. Then Follow me becomes a call of joy That far surpasses any earthly toy. Ray Coleman

Page 83 text:

The Trip Back The clock on the office wall read 11:45 as the manager of the team picked up the phone. Hello, Mr. Johnson? Yes, I know Fred's fastball is gone. Yes, we've told him to lose weight . . . Mr. Johnson, l hate it, but we'll have to let him go. I let him hang around after the first cut because, well, you know how popular he was. I even liked him myself and I kept hoping for . . . yes, sir. First thing tomorrow morning. Can you go over with me? He's staying at the Oak Street Boarding House. The same place he stayed during his first camp in '56, kind of a sentimental thing. But, there's no use in his showing up for practice No, I'd rather tell him personally, sir Yes, sir. Good night It was 5:30 when Fred woke up. lt was still dark, so he switched on the little table lamp. The light rays shone on an old picture of Fred, taken the day that he struck out 14 batters. He'd make it again, just wait and see . . . No, he thought. Those days are over. You ought to give up and go home now. The sky was just getting light when Fred, suitcase in hand, walked out of the boarding house. How different the old place looked from the big city hotels he used to stay in. He'd stay there again, but not as a baseball player. He might be a salesman or a . . . or what? What could he do? Aw, no need to worry about that. There'd be jobs enough back home. Matter of fact, he'd almost taken one last winter. There would be other good things, too. No more hopping from city to city every few days. No more games. He could have a home year round. It was what Becki had always wanted, and now he could offer it to her. g r Well, here he was at the bus depot. He'd buy a ticket and wait. Should he call the manager? Shucks, No - he'd still be asleep, Fred figured. Oh, well, l can call him later. As the bus pulled out, the team's manager and Vice-President were driving toward the boarding house through the early morning fog. I sure hate to tell himf boss. He's washed out, Shorty. Yeah, but - I waited two years and a month on 'Yeah but's'. We havento let him go. Maybe we can use him as a coach somewhere, but he just can't cut it this year . . . Look out, Shorty! I declare, if you managed xlike you drove, I'd be firing you instead of Phillips! . Well, I didn't see the bus pulling out! How about watching it? Okay, okay. Looking out the window, Fred mused, I wonder what those fellows were thinking about. They sure weren't watching the road. And the red lights of the bus sped on and were gently swallowed in the fog. ' Ray Coleman