St Margarets Academy - Dayseye Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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the sacred heart Dorothy Ramsey The twilight stillness gathers here around the Sanctuary light. A tiny breeze causes it to flicker, Grow dim. and then with sudden burst of joy, throw its Ruddy glow about a statue. This crimson light reflects Upon a hand. His hand, and one that suits Him well with Its perfection. The hand is pressed against His Heart. A heart in which we all are loved with no distinction. Not proud like a king's heart, but gentle like a father's. Thus we see Him in the evening calm, not a Master to be Feared, but a Father to be loved—The Sacred Heart. I 23 1

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our chapel Dorothy Ramsey We have viewed the soft fall of snow, the first green budding of spring, and the warm glow of the summer sun from the chapel windows. The outside world changes unceasingly, but in the inner sanctuary of our little chapel there is no change. Dark days lose their gloominess as we glance at the little sanctuary light burning bravely, a challenge to our troubled hearts. We feel His presence as truly as mayhaps we might in some dim-lighted cathedral, its Gothic spires reared heavenward, and Raphael's iMadonna on its marble wall. We need no ancient grandeur, no exquisite fruits of the old masters to awaken our souls to grateful prayer. Our little chapel with its simple furnishing and quiet air of simplicity is our cathedral. Here we may lose ourselves in silent adoration for His majesty enthroned behind the small golden door of the tabernacle. We know that He will hear us when we invoke His aid. that He desires not the death of a sinner but that He be born again to life. We believe all this, but somehow it seems more real here in God's own home. It is with a subdued feeling, a feeling of awe and of consuming love that we leave our little chapel and journey out into the sunshine, into the day and what it holds in store for us. into the world. I 22 I

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1 retreat Rosemary Holden Suddenly the rude clangor of the insistent gong breaks through the subdued buzzing of the crowded assembly hall. An instant of last minute chatter and all is still. The tall priestly figure of the scholarly master appears in the open doorway and as he passes up the aisle and kneels at the base of the platform. all quietly rise and bow their heads in deep, expectant silence. Our Father, who art in heaven —and so the year's Retreat begins. There follow three days of peace and quiet meditation, a pause in the puppet-show of human affairs, in which we find the truthful answer to that all encompassing question. “Do you love the Master? Timely words of counsel and of consolation seep deep into our hearts awakened from their lethargy, and echo the simple sincerity of the leader’s urgent voice. Restful strolls through hushed corridors—uplifting, pious reading—soothing visits to the lovely chapel—attendance at daily mass in the great Basilica, that lends a sense of awe and mystery to the sweet routine—benediction in the tiny chapel, accompanied by the joyful chorus of three hundred prayerful voices—these are our Retreat highlights. But the culmination of its spiritual message is here portrayed: the melodious sanctuary bell rings out its three-fold tone against the low murmur of the celebrant’s. “Lord. I am not worthy : slowly, the lines of grace-surfeited girls wend to the gleaming altar rail and there receive their Blessed Lord: the fluted organ softly sings the lovely Adoramus Te Christe. Mass completed, the priest descends into the lofted nave, and following his last instruction, raises his hand in papal benediction—“ Benedicamus Domino. And so the nineteen thirty-two Retreat prayerfully ends. [ 24 1