31 Wope The day is past, And in the west The sun breaks through Thick clouds, To cast a rosy glow O’er all the earth. Our life is past; The mists draw back, Show silver rays 0f hope Which lie beyond the dark 0f tasks undone. MARGARET STEEN, ’37.
6 THE DIAL For the first time in many years, Arnold was in church, hungrily devouring the words of God as His messenger proclaimed the glorious victory of Christ's resurrection. And when the happy congregation arose to sing the beautiful Easter hymn, “Christ is risen! Hallelujah!” Arnold, too,... Show more6 THE DIAL For the first time in many years, Arnold was in church, hungrily devouring the words of God as His messenger proclaimed the glorious victory of Christ's resurrection. And when the happy congregation arose to sing the beautiful Easter hymn, “Christ is risen! Hallelujah!” Arnold, too, arose to blend his voice with theirs. The service was over, and he left the church. But no longer did he creep stealthin on his way; he was a new man with the joy of Easter burning in his soul. He had seen his own Christ crucified—and glorified! Life was bright and beautiful before his eyes. Am“ S. KVEBN, ’36. Show less
THE DIAL 13 four in the Veterans Hospital at Bloomington. You may see him.” Mother Roberts’ eyes filled. She held the paper tight- ly in her hands while she groped towards a window. “He is living! Thank God! He is living! But all these years he has lived alone without his mother. Poor George, sick... Show moreTHE DIAL 13 four in the Veterans Hospital at Bloomington. You may see him.” Mother Roberts’ eyes filled. She held the paper tight- ly in her hands while she groped towards a window. “He is living! Thank God! He is living! But all these years he has lived alone without his mother. Poor George, sick.” Her eyes cleared and she saw the world outside. It was suddenly such a beautiful world. There was a glowing warmth and a shining glory about it even though she could see only a few bleak, grey housetops and a few snow white clouds in a blue sky. “He is living!” Her joy found no expression in any other words, but as she grew calmer she remembered that not only was he living, but she could see him, for the hospital was only a few miles away. If she hurried, she could even get there today. A little later a frail figure was hurrying towards the car line. She was dressed in a worn old coat. Her shoes looked suspiciously thin around the edges, but she didn’t shiver now when she stepped on ice. She smiled at all she met. The street car today was filled with cheerful people, but it moved so very, very slowly. And it took so much time to transfer today. If there were an ac- cident, or a traffic jam, she would never reach the hos- pital before four o’clock. And she had to, for after that time it was closed to visitors. “There are many happy people in the world today,” Mother Roberts said as she paused to wave her hand to a young lady she had talked to on the street car. Those who heard her, smiled too. It seemed a long, long time before Mother Roberts found the hospital and the main entrance. Once inside she knew what to do. She must find ward forty-four. She found the first door, and opened it. She saw a long silent corridor. She walked down it and found another. She walked down that. “How far can it be?” she said. “I must have walked Show less
27 Your Uncle Henry WHY, THAT’S YOUR UNCLE HENRY. You don’t remember him? No, I suppose you don’t. You were just a baby when he . . . went away. Isn’t he handsome? I always thought he was the handsomest of all of us—in the whole town for that mat- ter. Yes, and the smartest too. And he was always... Show more27 Your Uncle Henry WHY, THAT’S YOUR UNCLE HENRY. You don’t remember him? No, I suppose you don’t. You were just a baby when he . . . went away. Isn’t he handsome? I always thought he was the handsomest of all of us—in the whole town for that mat- ter. Yes, and the smartest too. And he was always so kind, your uncle Henry. No one was ever kinder to me. I was next to the smallest and far from the prettiest. I remember once I tripped and fell when we were playing hop-scotch. It was out in front of the old school. They had wooden sidewalks in those days and I suppose my foot caught in a crack or knothole and there I lay sprawled over the walk. I can smile when I think of it now, but it almost broke my heart then because they all laughed. I was so awkward. But Henry picked me up, “Prince Henry,” I called him, but only to myself. He gave them a piece of his mind, too, and I tell you Henry could talk. They were all just a bit afraid of your uncle Henry. They knew he was smarter. That picture, I think it was taken when he was twelve. It’s so faded I can hardly read the name of the photo- grapher. Langleys, that’s it. Old man Langley is dead now, long ago. He had a shop over above Guerber’s drug store in the building that burned, remember? No, that was in ’28. You’d hardly remember. And here he’s sixteen. That was his graduation pic- ture. Yes, he was only sixteen when he graduated from Show less
24 Worth gtall Woctume Let me tell of a dream that I often recall Of a winter-cold evening in yester-year’s fall. When the snowflakes were flying thru cpl-campus trees, And I froze my poor feet half way up to my knees. As I lay fast asleep the all-turbulent air Very stealthin swept through my... Show more24 Worth gtall Woctume Let me tell of a dream that I often recall Of a winter-cold evening in yester-year’s fall. When the snowflakes were flying thru cpl-campus trees, And I froze my poor feet half way up to my knees. As I lay fast asleep the all-turbulent air Very stealthin swept through my fast chilling lair. And with stokm asleep—no more heat for that night~— Plot and background were laid for these lines erudite. Now my bed was so short that my feet did project Well out into the wind where no quilt could protect. Since one’s feet must be somewhere the phyticists hold. Thus I lay plagued with nightmare. my feet in the cold. O O 0 O I could see very little, ’twas useless to look. Soon I found myself fording the iciest brook. As I floundered toward shore visualize my dismay, When I found that the brook also turned the same way. Thus I ran on and on till my lungs nearly burst, But wherever I turned the bent brook got there first. I was wond'ring why I had been dealt such a fate— In disgust I cried out, “Must be something I ate!” But the end came at last (for all things here must end) When I heard a bell ringing around the next bend. And I said to myself as I slowly drew near, “This infernal machine must be right in my ear." I awoke filled with fear which gave way to relief When I found that my ankles had come to no grief. I was thankful indeed as I stopped the alarm That the worst of my night-mares could do me no harm. Now the moral is this: All tall Freshmen should know, When you sleep wear your hip-boots, they'll comfort bestow. Gnome E. KNU‘I'SIN, '37. Show less
THE DIAL 29 perous. People said he was getting swell-headed. That’s not true, of course. They were always jealous. He used to send me presents for my birthday and for Christmas. He sent gifts to the others, too, of course, but I think he was always a bit partial to me. He had wonderful taste,... Show moreTHE DIAL 29 perous. People said he was getting swell-headed. That’s not true, of course. They were always jealous. He used to send me presents for my birthday and for Christmas. He sent gifts to the others, too, of course, but I think he was always a bit partial to me. He had wonderful taste, your uncle Henry. Everything he gave had an expensive air about it . . . handkerchiefs with real lace an inch and a half wide, and sometimes he sent flowers, roses usually, because I liked them. Of course he advanced fast in the Colton bank. He was bound to. He had it in him. Your uncle Henry was always smart. Quick and smart . . . and thoughtful for others. That makes a good business man. I hope you’re like him. I was over there once, years later, just to visit him, and he was talking with the sweetest little old lady. They say she had inherited a fortune from her husband, but that made no difference with Henry, he wasn’t one to cater to the rich. I couldn’t help overbearing a few words now and then, and he was talking to her in the kindest way, I loved him for it. And when she got up to leave he took her arm, just as courteous as a nobleman, and walked clear to the outer door with her. Prince Henry was a name that just suited him. He left the bank soon after that. It wasn’t big enough for him, I always said, but of course people talked. They always talk in a small town. Spiteful. Always spiteful and jeal- ous of anyone better than themselves. He went into real estate. Florida land. And he was making a good thing of it. Where did you hear that? Who said that? I might have guessed it. Her fa- ther was always jealous of your uncle Henry. He used to fail in spelling and arithmetic always, and some Show less
An Easter Vision DAWN was barely discernible as the shrivelled form of a man crept stealthin down the hillside that still Easter morning. His quick, restless eyes betrayed his fear that someone might be looking at him, and the least noise would make him stop. His drawn, seared features spoke all... Show moreAn Easter Vision DAWN was barely discernible as the shrivelled form of a man crept stealthin down the hillside that still Easter morning. His quick, restless eyes betrayed his fear that someone might be looking at him, and the least noise would make him stop. His drawn, seared features spoke all too plainly of a life in vice and godlessness. No thought of Easter entered his mind, for Arnold had long ago given up his childhood faith in the Savior who had come to redeem the world. It somehow had not fitted in with his scheme of life. At the moment he was intent only on reaching shelter in the great city. But he was tired—so tired that, when he reached the outskirts of the cty, he threw himself down on the steps of a nearby church to snatch a bit of rest. But the spring air was chill, and he shivered as he tried to wrap his cut more closely about him. His efforts were of little avail. for the cold air continued to penetrate. It was then that he decided to enter the church just long enough to get warm and somewhat rested. So he arose, opened the door, and stepped inside. But hark! From whence came the music? Arnold looked about him in surprise. The church was empty. Then his eye caught sight of the organist far towards the front of the church. But why at this early hour? He glanced at his watch; it was scarcely five thirty. T hen he remembered. It was Easter morning. People would soon be gathering for the sunrise services. Show less
CfDrayer Enlarge my soul, 0 God— Stretch it out like the sky above; Make it yield like verdant spring sod, Like a tree, reach out in love. Touch my lips with altar fire, Till sacred words ring true, And old, old words by heart inspired, Seem always loving and new. Sing through my heart with... Show moreCfDrayer Enlarge my soul, 0 God— Stretch it out like the sky above; Make it yield like verdant spring sod, Like a tree, reach out in love. Touch my lips with altar fire, Till sacred words ring true, And old, old words by heart inspired, Seem always loving and new. Sing through my heart with warming rapture; Lift my soul into victory song; Live in my heart with Thine own heart, And so shall my soul grow strong. ELISABETH THOMPSON, F36. Show less
2X (577w griend How wonderful to find A heart so true and kind! For friendship kind and true First came to me with you. How wonderful to be Together now to see How life in beauty lies Wide open to our eyes! P. A. SVEEGGEN. ~9){0ming I saw above the mountain’s hoary head— A flaming jewel set in... Show more2X (577w griend How wonderful to find A heart so true and kind! For friendship kind and true First came to me with you. How wonderful to be Together now to see How life in beauty lies Wide open to our eyes! P. A. SVEEGGEN. ~9){0ming I saw above the mountain’s hoary head— A flaming jewel set in banks of white, A wondrous crimson afterthought of night—— The morning sun rise slowly from its bed; Ray after ray, down the mountain it spread, To drop from rock to rock, like leaping light, Like waterfalls in steep and dazzling flight— Morning’s display to rouse earth’s nightly dead. Then up from foothills steeped in twilight still There comes to meet the dawn’s ecstatic rush The misty breath of earth re-wakening— A rainbow crowns each rugged peak and bush, And over all there rests a holy hush— The morning's pause for man’s awakening. BERTHA LILLEHEI, '34. Show less
11 my §avior Melody: I Know a Way (Concordia) My Savior gave His life to save me; He came to earth from God above. With grace divine and heavenly love. 0 what a gift it was He gave me. With joy and hope it fills my life, And strength and courage in the strife— He gave His life to save me. He now... Show more11 my §avior Melody: I Know a Way (Concordia) My Savior gave His life to save me; He came to earth from God above. With grace divine and heavenly love. 0 what a gift it was He gave me. With joy and hope it fills my life, And strength and courage in the strife— He gave His life to save me. He now forgives me my transgression, All evil I have ever done. For my redemption He has won; He takes my sins at my confession, And from their bonds He brings release, While in their place He gives me peace, Forgiving all transgression. And so He shows the way of duty, How I may serve in spirit true, And labor well His work to do, In bringing forth His Kingdom’s beauty, So that its glory here may dwell, And all may learn to follow well The way of Heavenly duty. Thus life becomes a sacred story, As Jesus takes me by the hand, And guides me through this earthly land, Upon the way from grace to glory, Until I reach His home above, With Him to dwell in joy and love, In endless Heavenly glory. P. A. SVEEGGEN. Show less
27 Your Uncle Henry WHY, THAT’S YOUR UNCLE HENRY. You don’t remember him? No, I suppose you don’t. You were just a baby when he . . . went away. Isn't he handsome? I always thought he was the handsomest of all of us—in the whole town for that mat- ter. Yes, and the smartest too. And he was always... Show more27 Your Uncle Henry WHY, THAT’S YOUR UNCLE HENRY. You don’t remember him? No, I suppose you don’t. You were just a baby when he . . . went away. Isn't he handsome? I always thought he was the handsomest of all of us—in the whole town for that mat- ter. Yes, and the smartest too. And he was always so kind, your uncle Henry. N 0 one was ever kinder to me. I was next to the smallest and far from the prettiest. I remember once I tripped and fell when we were playing hop—scotch. It was out in front of the old school. They had wooden sidewalks in those days and I suppose my foot caught in a crack or knothole and there I lay sprawled over the walk. I can smile when I think of it now, but it almost broke my heart then because they all laughed. I was so awkward. But Henry picked me up, “Prince Henry,” I called him, but only to myself. He gave them a piece of his mind, too, and I tell you Henry could talk. They were all just a bit afraid of your uncle Henry. They knew he was smarter. That picture, I think it was taken when he was twelve. It’s so faded I can hardly read the name of the photo- grapher. Langleys, that’s it. Old man Langley is dead now, long ago. He had a shop over above Guerber’s drug store in the building that burned, remember? No, that was in ’28. You’d hardly remember. And here he’s sixteen. That was his graduation pic- ture. Yes, he was only sixteen when he graduated from Show less
THE DIAL 23' to call the attention of its friend within to bring a mes- sage. It had a message, and Tony heard it, but his sick one did not. “Look at it, Daddy; it’s waving to me. I’m glad it’s there to keep me company. I hope it doesn’t fall off un- til I’m well again.” Tony left. The unwearying... Show moreTHE DIAL 23' to call the attention of its friend within to bring a mes- sage. It had a message, and Tony heard it, but his sick one did not. “Look at it, Daddy; it’s waving to me. I’m glad it’s there to keep me company. I hope it doesn’t fall off un- til I’m well again.” Tony left. The unwearying wind kept blowing its warning of coming winter. Now and then an early snow flake would come down and rest upon the frozen ground. Geezy lay awhile watching the lonesome ivy leaf as it stirred with each new gust of the wind. But he soon turned his face to the wall and fell asleep. That evening when Tony came home, he did not pause- to lay aside his coat but hurried up the stairs and quietly approached the door of Geezy’s room. He opened it. His first look went to the window and the leaf. But it was gone. Not glancing at all at the cot, he walked to the window and looked out. His stooped frame seemed to bend even lower as he listened to the exultant wind outside. It whistled on its hurried way, stopping here and there to put its icy hand into a pool of leaves and stir them from their rest. They rustled resentfully, but in vain. They all had fallen before the wind. Tony did not turn around when he spoke to his son. “Well, Geezy, my boy, you are better today.” No other voice broke the stillness of the room. Tony did not know Why, but he seemed glad that there was no answer. His only leaf had fallen, but it rested, quietly. Again he said, “Yes, Geezy, my boy, you are better today.” FORREST MONSON, ’37. Show less
17 gucharist A moth’s moth-eaten, fragile wing Is not so truly frail a thing, 0r broken, as the self I bring. But you break bread in sacrament, Pour bleeding grapes for wine; And yieldedness in brokenness Receives a gift divine. A moth’s transparent, faultless wing Is not so wonderful a thing As... Show more17 gucharist A moth’s moth-eaten, fragile wing Is not so truly frail a thing, 0r broken, as the self I bring. But you break bread in sacrament, Pour bleeding grapes for wine; And yieldedness in brokenness Receives a gift divine. A moth’s transparent, faultless wing Is not so wonderful a thing As is this grace to which I cling. GRACE JEWEL JENSEN, ’33. Show less
mfg egoul Some may say the clouds are moving Across the silent moon— But for me It is the moon that sails Serene, majestic on its way; Some may say the world is moving, The hours and the days— But for me It is my soul that moves Steadily, surely on its way. Some may say the clouds are changing,... Show moremfg egoul Some may say the clouds are moving Across the silent moon— But for me It is the moon that sails Serene, majestic on its way; Some may say the world is moving, The hours and the days— But for me It is my soul that moves Steadily, surely on its way. Some may say the clouds are changing, Around the changeless moon— But for me It is the moon that veers Within its unknown valley heart; Some may say the world is changing, The places and the times— But for me It is my soul that grows And leaves the changeless world behind! BERTHA LILLEHEI, ’34. Show less
h“. \ " .auuud‘q LL. 5 ._ r.-\‘-.."i.1‘-/|':5 THE DIAL (Spring 1956 VOL. EIGHT PUBLISHED BY THE AUGSBURG COLLEGE WRITERS’ CLUB AUGSBURG COLLEGE, MINNEAPOLIS
THE DIAL 9 use me as their subject of conversation. There I’d sit, bothering no one, but it never failed that somebody, among the old women especially, would say to my mother, “My what a nice looking boy you have.” My face would burn, taking on a beet-like hue, and I’d say to myself, "Liar,... Show moreTHE DIAL 9 use me as their subject of conversation. There I’d sit, bothering no one, but it never failed that somebody, among the old women especially, would say to my mother, “My what a nice looking boy you have.” My face would burn, taking on a beet-like hue, and I’d say to myself, "Liar, yesterday you tried to knock me off your back fence with a broom. If you were a kid my size and a boy, I’d sure get even with you." And my mother would answer with a little hesitancy, “Oh, yes, but he—he is sort of wild.” Boy, that would get me, and I’d glance over at my sister who’d be snicker- ing behind her hand, and oh, how that would make me boil. Disgusted I’d rise out of the chair and start for the door. Start, and that would be about all, for across the room I’d hear a voice like the trump of doom, “Roy!” and I’d know it was my mother. “Roy!” it would come again. I’d stop, bite my cheek, rub the back of my leg with my other foot, and turn around with a snap. My eyes, spitting fire, would roam around the room till they rested on my sister with a YOU look. Then my glare would slide past the old women over to my mother where it didn’t dare stop, and finally over to- wards my dad’s chair. There it would rest, for on his face would be a wistful, understanding look. I’d hike back to my chair, throw myself down in it, and grumble something about meanies. That’d be the end of another wrecked day. LEROY ELSTER, ’39. Show less
20 THE DIAL a basket and admitting them through the seemingly use- less door which opened directly on the thin air. Before taking leave. we spoke a while with the present owner of the vast estate on which the monastery lies. Through him we learned that the cloister had at one time been a great... Show more20 THE DIAL a basket and admitting them through the seemingly use- less door which opened directly on the thin air. Before taking leave. we spoke a while with the present owner of the vast estate on which the monastery lies. Through him we learned that the cloister had at one time been a great feudal overlord to whom the peasants for miles around had paid tribute. At that time the monas- tery was a great trading center and the now deserted courtyard had been bustling with people. Although feudalism has long since disappeared from the North. yet even to this day a traditional relationship exists be- tween the present owner of the monastery and the smaller, neighboring landholders. The sun was setting as we bid farewell. A romantic golden hue fell on the gray walls of the silent cloister buildings. It was a haunting sight full of the wonder of the past, and its weird beauty sank into my soul. JOHN STENSVAAG, '36. Show less
