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St. Mary's High School
Niagara Falls, Niagara County, New York
"Sancta Maria"
1937 Yearbook

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Note: Only pages with textual content dealing with the students and faculty have been scanned.
 

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Page 16 Page 41
Page 17 Page 44
Page 18 Page 45
Page 19 Page 46
Page 20 Page 50
Page 21 Page 54
Page 22 Page 55
Page 23 Page 56
Page 24 Page 57
Page 25 Page 58
Page 26 Page 59
Page 27 Page 60
Page 30
Page 31
Page 32
Page 33
Page 34 Father Killeen
Page 38 School Building
Page 39 Autographs
Page 40 Back to NY Library

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE:
Sancta Maria - 1937 yearbook for St. Mary's High School
SCANNED TEXT:
THE STARS ANN When night comes down where'er I be, My sister died when I was five years old and I want no roof to cover me, she but ten Just an open field where I can see I was too young to realize just what had happened then. The blessed stars. I thought the angels borrowed her to play with Many's the grief I've left unsaid, them awhile, Though in silence my heart has bled her happy smile. With bitter tears that flow uncheckedI thought that Jesus longed to see once more beneath the stars. But now that I have older grown and things are clear to me, And when my time shall come to die, I know that God was calling her, an angel fair I care not where my flesh shall lie. to be. For I know my soul shall fly He needed her in Heaven; He wanted her with Back to the stars. Him; God wanted her to join the ranks of singing Margaret Asma, '37 seraphim. O Lord forgive my ignorance, for I was only five, I could not help my ardent wish that she were still alive. And tell her that I miss her, and please ask her A REQUEST if she'll pray That I, too, will get to Heaven by "Thy Light, Instead of riches give to me Thy Truth, Thy Way." Eyes, the great good things to see; The golden earth, the jeweled sky,Catherine Rickert, '37 Give me this, when day's begun A woodland glade, a ray of sun Falling where the dewdrops lie. NIGHT FLIGHT The best that in all hearts doth lie. Give me this and rich am I. The stars of heaven come at night Give me this, a stream that wends To light the dark below, Where the weeping willow bends, And great gray owls with wings of might, Singing through the woodland ways Glide cross the pale moon's glow; Never-ending songs of praise.While rich-hued curtains softly drawn To cover all the sky Give me these with eyes to see Till comes anon the promised dawn The night goes flitting by. Margaret Asma, '37 Nora Grady, '37 And richer than a king I'll be. 27

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