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Vol. XLIII.

No. 17

a

NEO-SACERDOS

Dedicated to the Ordinati of 1910-11

BY W. J. D.

AME the Master's voice to thee when a child
E'r yet the siren of sin had beguiled;

And gladly didst heed the low whispered call

To come and be bounden neath His sweet thrall.
"Oh son give thy heart to Me," He had cried;
So tearing thy self from thy parents' side,
Didst follow thy Lord to the cloister's quiet,
Didst come to be girded as His true knight —
In silence apart from the world's great din,
In haven of refuge from the world's sin.
'Twas here in thy solitude thou didst delve
For the treasured lore of the Chosen Twelve;
Here held in the chapel's wondrous spell,
Where Pris'ner of Love doth the Master dwell,
Thou didst pledge thy life to the Master's cause,
And shape thy crude youth by the Master's laws;
Whilst flamed by the Master, thy heart didst burn
Throughout the long years with eagerness yearn
That priestly bonds 'round thy soul be riven,
And priestly power to thy hand be given.
Lo! now a priest - and what holy task thine —
To offer each morn at the Holy Shrine
The All Potent Sacrifice of the Mount,
Souls banned in their source to free at the Fount.
To cleanse the leper from sin's filthy scurf,
And strike of the shackles from hell-bound seris,
The blind, to illumine with fruitful light,
The lost ones to lead to the path of right,
To stand by souls frightened at demon's power
And tender them aid in their last sad bour.
To rend them away from hell's fatal grasp
And give them o er safe to the Master's clasp
A soldier thou art of God's chosen band
To battle for souls on this so-carved last
No weaklings stride is the war the mat wa
For thou dost contend with bella baffed rare.
Where'er on thymece of lone wols thon go
The demons' glance follows wit baletit glow

They would get their hate on the souls toon world are -
On the souls that the Makers Blood die lane
And fain would they spare thy wil is therr spell
They would wrak on the all the wrath of bell
And thou art bus creature of day and fract
So must be fill-beached in Toy Kamer & T
Not of thyself as timu ite the good ige
Thy arms be strong besed by od so
Craven thy sorage it come from abone
Thy weapons be forget a mory of Love
Yet canst draw a from the Alar it mort
So hell of its raESSED DE BISEL.

THE RETURN OF SCIENCE TO GOD* UMANITY is a fragile bark, launched on the depths of time. The winds of change and the waves of circumstance have tossed her here and there, now riding on the ascending crest of progress, now driven on the dark, rocky shallows of retrogression; the floods of human reason have roused the tranquil deep into turbulent death-dealing billows that threaten to engulf the seeker of knowledge, and doubt has become the synonym of thought. The history of science and its philosophic tendencies is the record of a bootless search for the ultimate cause of the phenomena, witnessed and experienced in the world of material things; for the finite human intellect, forgetful of its own capabilities and limitations, is veritably lost in its endeavors to comprehend the infinite. Science, the temporal end of intellectual activity, is cloaked in a spirit of uneasiness because it recognizes no legitimate authority for the interpretation of its discoveries in the realm of physical phenomena. Completely lost in the depths of unfusion and contradiction the modern invellent has but one retreat, the gloomy course of sexism.

Such was not always the condition of affairs, for man in his pristine state rejoined in a knowledge finitely perfect. But when he turned from God through sin be cast and the legitimate ambray; and bis lot was destined to be a pad zvied intellectual decline. The science witë mik CA had endowed our fret parents gave place to a vague perfumed memory thing aray as slowly end as silently as the outgoing tides til at hari a ba itself in the volent throw of a 1 miest and prixmatic pagan philosophy. In the passage from Pagal to Otris Sorace exerged from eporting posemnity to deploy the from a state of restlessness to stability from error to traffi The long desired amboniy va recogs an end u secced By the enfeebled on sé mai of the

Commenemen aan delivered in Xs Love I. Ena al