|
A Letter to A Graduate |
||
| � |
I cannot buy you a set of morals; I cannot build you a sense of responsibility; I cannot manufacture for you a concern and compassion; I cannot make yours a compelling, faithful, loyal spirit; I cannot give you the ability to love. I have no fortune to will you with which to gain popularity, make you a philanthropist, or help you leave memorials for charity. I own no secret formula for success nor any new philosophy. I�ve never written a book of wisdom. I cannot send you away into the world on your own, with beautiful pictures only in your memory, for you have seen me cry faithless tears of despair; you have seen me shake my fist in anger; you have witnessed ugliness in my time of weakness. But these things I cannot give are all yours in Christ Jesus.  As you accept your diploma, severing your relations with school, you step into new relationships with parents, friends, and the world. The apron strings that have been lengthened as you matured must soon be cut. You have proven yourself trustworthy, mature, and dependable enough to try your wings, but I will be �on call� throughout my life. You are fully accountable to God, your heavenly father, who loves you far more than I, who has riches in store beyond your comprehension, but who expects much, sees, and knows--also beyond your comprehension. I commit you to his care as the fire of the world tests the gold of your character. And I will be in prayer for you. --A Friend--
 
 |
|
