St Stephens Academy - Academician Yearbook (Port Huron, MI)

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— — The Portal ■ — EXPLANATION OF “THE PORTAL” “The Portal” was chosen as the title of the Annual of St. Stephen High School, after long and serious thought. Many names suggested themselves; names that mean much in the vocabulary of friendship and memory. But “Portal ’ was selected because it bears a direct relation to the town w e call the “home town,” and the word has an allegorical meaning at Commencement time. Port Huron is the gateway to the w’ide and deeper w ' aters of Lake Huron. Ships before entering into the lake are overhauled and their equipment shown to be seaworthy. Once into the deeper w ater, the shore line disappears and the vessel finds itself guiding the path with the aid of the compass only. Sometimes the path is straight and clear, sometimes it zigzags into narrow channels to avoid rocks and shoals, but always the compass guides, and the Beacon lights of the distant shore beckon a welcome through the mists. How like our life at leaving school. The friendly guiding hands of school life are withdrawn and we are now to sail our boat into the broader circles of the world. We should be seaworthy for we have had the advantage of every instruction which might develop both the spiritual and intellectual and physical man. Our moral con- science must be our compass, and pure and simple trust in God, our guiding star, and shining clear above any shoals, must be the great ideal of our noblest and best effort, which will bring us safely to the Portal of Eternity. Lawrence Nelson, ’ 31 . IMMACULATE Dear God, how wonderful Thy mighty xcays! My spirit, visioning eternal days Sinks into nothingness before Thy rays Of mercy and omnipotence. Thy fiat called the sun, the starry light. That gladdens day and beautifies the night. From nothing ; and Thy word, omniscient might Made all in grace and loveliness. The slender blade of waving grass at morn, A blushing rose, protected by its thorn. And painted butterfly in beauty borne On wings of Heaven ' s translucency. The lofty hills, the snow-clad, silent peaks, The moaning sea, the rippling brooklet speaks The wonderous care, while mourning nature weeps O ' er man ' s supreme forgetfulness. All, all is beautiful beyond compare. All loud proclaim ' Thy loving, mighty care. Thy creatures one and all, surpassing fair Announce supernal loveliness. And still they tell us that Thy might divine Refused fore ' er the mother of Thy Son and mine To shield from Adam ' s sin, when always Thine Was power to guard her comeliness. — Selected. Page Three

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Dedication To our parents, those noble souls who have labored and sacrificed that we might receive an education we gratefully dedicate this book. May we ever remem- ber the immense debt we owe them, and may we never forget to repay them for the innumerable hard- ships they have undergone that we might arrive at the threshold of life equipped with a High School education. Let us keep this image always before our eyes, and in working, strive to be all and more than they expect, true sons and daughters of noble parents.

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The Portal TO FATHER McCORMICK Dearest Father , We gather to receive your blessing , As each prepares to continue alone. To our lips thoughts of thanks ice are pressing , Would that our voices had an almighty tone. Our faithful friend , We thank you for your great Merest , And pride you felt in every school affair. The work of each pupil you rewarded, In pleasures always holding a major share. Most steadfast guide. Now as our short time comes to a close. We again thank you for all you have done To make our school life always remembered, Life ' s first great battle ice have most nobly won. Howard Gobeyn, ' 31. TO THE FACULTY Only some blue and white virgins. Untainted, unsought and unknown, Treading the pathway to heaven, Heaping the seeds they have sown. Day after day they have struggled. Day after day they have won. Teaching, correcting and guiding Each parishioner ' s daughter or son. Who are these blur and white virgins? Whose care, future years will not dim. They are only a group of loved Sisters Our Faculty, dear, of the I. . M. Catherine Baumann, 31.