Fraternity-Testvériség, 1975 (53. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1975-10-01 / 10-12. szám
English Section: PILGRIMS OF THE NIGHT As we look back on the events of the past and peer into the yet undiscovered future we think of nomadic Abraham of old who looked for a city which had foundations. Even the pilgrim is looking for some fair port where he may disembark. But are wo really pilgrims or sojourners? Are we here to stay or here on some vaster way, on which our life today is hut a lap? Is there any truth more inescapable than the fact that wc are pilgrims? I’m a pilgrim and I’m a stranger. I can tarry, I can tarry but a night. Do not detain me, for I am going To where the fountains are. ever fliming. I’m a pilgrim, I’m a pilgrim, I can tarry, I can tarry but a night. The ceaseless stars confirm our pilgrim faith. So do the courses of nature. So does human experience, whether recorded on the pages of history or on the tablets of our personal memory. We arc pilgrims. Wh o is the practical man of affairs, he who takes no account of the basic fact of life’s pilgrimage and acts as though the universe had given him a nine hundred and ninety-year lease on a corner of the earth, or he who ponders deeply the mystery of life, and who strives to live as pilgrims should, with a high sense of destiny? You know the true answer! Are you living in the light of it? Are you under the compulsion and thrill of it? Wc are pilgrims, pilgrims of the night, hut not pilgrims whose destiny is night. We are pilgrims of the night but the eternal day is our fair haven. Toiling, struggling, fainting, “weeping may endure for the night but joy cometh in the morning.” “Why must it have been that my beloved son should have been stricken down at his post of duty in Vietnam?” cries an anguished mother of her darling lad, whose life was snuffed out in one hold, brave moment of heroic adventure. Why was it? Only the everlasting day will tell! Yet it is ever so that out of the bloody travail of pilgrims through the night, the day is horn. On every great scientific and industrial field, in the bivouac of battle and on the highways of human struggle and toil, destiny lays its fateful load upon the shoulders of the pilgrims of the night. The argosies of the seven seas are not carried on excursion boats hut upon craft that put out into the face of the deep, “gainst storm and wind and tide.” So once again come what may it shall he full sail ahead. And out of the darkness of the pilgrim night shall presently, yes, even suddenly, break the dawning light of the endless day. With two hands upon the helm, yours and His, you shall come to your desired haven. Tibor Toth THIS BLESSED DAY (Krisztus Urunknak áldott születésén) This hlessed day when Christ our Savior was horn We will sing praises like the angels that morn; Who o’er the fields of Bethlehem were winging Joyfully singing! Glory to God he in His highest heaven, Good will to all men, peace on earth be given! Good cheer to ev’ry tribe and ev’ry nation And generation! In Bethlehem, King David’s noble city Jesus the Christchild, horn to Virgin Mary Brought happiness from God to Adam’s children Great joy to all men! Translated by Mrs. Julianna C. Toth THE NATIONAL OFFICERS OF THE HUNGARIAN REFORMED FEDERATION OF AMERICA ivishes you a blessed Christmas and a happy, peaceful New Year. 17
