By Maria Antonia Field.

Read at the Crowning of the Serra Statue, Monterey, Nov. 23, 1913.



The fickle world ofttimes applauds the rise
Of men whose laurels are but vainly won,
Whose deeds their names could not immortalize
For their soul-toils were wrought for transient ends;
But heroes of the Cross, they truly great
Shall live, their halo shall no hand of fate

Have power to rob, albeit oblivious years
May veil the radiance of their glorious works,
Or slight their excellence, their light appears
But brighter, statelier in its splendor calm,
Or like the flowers that sleep through winter's snow
To bloom more fair, their lives' pure beams shall glow

With greater brilliance and sweetly gleam
As lodestars in the firmament of worth;
Such is the memory whose holy stream
Of noblest virtue, valor, truth and Faith,
Illumes our path and stirs our souls today,
Immortal Serra by whose tomb we pray!

What peerless aureole wreathes his saintly brow?
What stately monument doth bear his name?