United Colleges - Vox Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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vox 11 In the Art Gallery of Bologna may be seen Raphael’s dream on canvas. In this picture we see St. Cecelia, the maiden musician, clad in rich robes, with broken instruments of music at her feet, standing with soft, upturned face, listening to the music of an angel choir in the heavens. By her side stands St. Paul, for he, too, had a vision, and his great life quest was “to seek those things which are above.” Behind him stands St. John, who, on lonely Patmos, received a vision of a city and a civilization, beautiful as a bride adorned for her husband. Behind him stands St. Augustine, who received a vision of a city that outsplendored the beauty of the city of Seven Hills. St. Cecelia stands out gloriously on the artist’s canvas, as the woman with the upturned look, her soul reaches out for the highest that heaven has. The artist has told the story well on that immortal canvas, for when once the choral songs of heaven break upon our listening ears, we let go the ephemeral pleasures and pur¬ suits of earth that we might possess the highest that God has in store for us, for Tennyson speaks truly when he says: We needs must love the highest when we see it.” There is no question, but that a good education is a great asset in life, but education alone will never make a man or a woman. It is only when culture is wedded to conscience that life’s true goal is reached, and life’s true crown is won. No one would think of beginning to build a house of any dimensions without first of all having a plan, neither should we think of building a character with¬ out having a purpose. It is the soul with a clear, clean, lofty purpose that tunnels the mountains of opposition, that bridges the rivers of obstruction, that holds steadfast on its way until the goal is reached, that compels even adverse winds and waves to drive it on its way: One ship drives east, another west By the selfsdme winds that blow; Its the set of the sail, and not the gale That tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the sea, are the ways of fate As we travel along through life — Its the will of the soul That determines the goal — And not the calm, or the strife.” A one-talented man with a lofty purpose will be more, and do more than a ten-talented man with a low purpose. For, after all, it is not so much what we do as what we would do—what we pur¬ pose to do—that counts. The aim, if reached or not, makes great the soul.” Nothing in the world can take the place of a lofty purpose— neither high birth, nor inherited wealth, nor talent. It is just as necessary for material success as for moral manhood. The purpose¬ less man is always open to the invitations of the devil, and is liable to go to the devil, or to the dogs, which is the same thing. If we start to go nowhere, we generally get there, and the man who aims at nothing usually hits it with magnificent precision.

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10 V o r y V Hedlletey Addtess By N. B. McLenaghen Presidents Mackay and Riddell, Members of the Faculty, Fellow Students, Ladies and Gentlemen: It is with mixed emotions that I appear before you tonight in the capacity of Valedictorian for the Graduating Class in the Theo¬ logical Department of the United Colleges. For, as I let my thoughts travel back to January, 1924, when, having retired from the prac¬ tice of dentistry, I began a combined course in Arts and Theology, many happy memories flash into consciousness. I remember, for in¬ stance, the many happy hours that we spent, sitting at the feet of our professors as they tried to impart to us some of their wisdom, or, I remember the many happy social events that we enjoyed, in spite of our arduous studies, or I remember the many happy friend¬ ships and associations that have been formed, which have meant so much, and which will continue to exert their influence in years to come. Such memories as these fill my heart with a sense of joy and gratitude. But, when I remember that the time has come when, to a certain extent at least, these old friendships and associations must be broken, when the old familiar halls of learning must be left behind, and when we must go out to make new friends, and to meet new problems, a feeling of sadness comes over me—it is not akin to pain, but resembles sorrow, only as mist resembles rain. So I am torn tonight between these two emotions of joy and sor¬ row. And I feel in speaking thus that I am voicing the sentiments of the other members of the Graduating Class, both in Theology and Deaconess work. And I am sure that we shall always retain a very close connection with our Alma Mater, and feel that she, too, will retain her interest in us, always willing and anxious to help us solve the problems we may meet. On occasions such as this, we naturally find ourselves thinking of the past, and looking into the future—remembering and antici¬ pating. But tonight, as I come on behalf of the Graduating Class, to bid official farewell to the professorial and student body of the United Colleges, it is not my intention to deal with the past. I do not intend to eulogize the professorial staff, either collectively or individually; I do not intend to congratulate the student body on the high intellectual standing it may possess—a whole evening might be spent on either of these subjects—but I prefer, rather, in the few minutes at my disposal, to leave with you some message for the future. And the note I wish to strike is: The Moral Value of a Lofty Purpose. If we are to make the most of our lives, and give our fullest contribution to the world, we must possess and be possessed by a lofty purpose. “He builds too low, who builds beneath the stars.”

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12 VOX Let us resolve then to live our lives that we can make the words of Browning our own and say: “ ' What had I on earth to do With the slothful, the mawkish, the unmanly — Like the aimless, hopeless, helpless did I dwell Being who? One who never turned his back But marched breastforward — Never doubted clouds would break — Never dreamed, though right were worsted Wrong would triumph — Held, we fall to rise, Are baffled, to fight better.” The very best we can be is the lure to lead us on to the heights of perfection. Let us shun, then, the levels of mediocrity, for they are dead levels: “Leave thy low vaulted past.” Let whatever we have done be but foundations on which to build more stately mansions in years to come. Remembering that Lowell tells us: “Not failure, but low aim is crime.” And Browning teaches us the same thing when he bids us say: “My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolutest best of what God made first.” This, then, is the message of farewell that I bring to you from the Graduating Class, as we depart from your midst. THEOLOGY FACULTY Back Row —Dr. Jas. Elliott. Prof. F. W. Kerr. Prof. E. A. Hetherington, Dr. J. H. Riddell, Rev. J. D. Fleming Front Row —Dr. John MacKay, Rev. A. B. Baird.