Concordia College - Spire / Concordian Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

Page 11 text:

mU984604 Dedication .. . He spoke a strong, stately English, the kind of English you find in Eccle- siastes, Shakespeare, and the New York Times. He roamed the souls of Lear and Hamlet, and found there truth enough for three lifetimes. He thought in terms of “A”, “B”, and “C”, and read everything from tomes on theology to the “little magazines.’ And in the manner of wise men, he knew that he knew nothing. As a teacher, he transmitted to us the magic in his soul and pen. He snorted, thumped the desk, reared and barked. And finally we saw and understood, and he seemed pleased with that. He sowed in us seeds that will grow, leaf, and flower, long after he is gone. There will always be part of him in us, the part that is noblest and most permanent. He put a new speech on our tongue. A new shape in our breast. Therefore we, the graduating classes, gratefully dedicate this book to Mr. Paul F. Bente.

Page 10 text:

We remember the ache and loneliness of Sunday afternoon . . . the hurrying of leaves in old October ... the laughter of a girl on a dark street in spring ... the shafts of sunlight kneeling before stained-glass windows in chapel... We remember hands . .. the hands of love, warm and seething with secret joy... the hands of our father, sinewed and always there .. . hands that reached out after many years... and the hands we shall see no more... We remember little else. A word spoken, a door that opened, and hands bear testimony to our yesteryears. But we dare not forget things past, for it is out of the ashes of the past that, Phoenix-like, new strength and perspective arise. , Because memories bind us to yesterday's growth, it is proper that we immure them between the covers of this book.

Page 12 text:

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; For there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, In the grave, whither thou goest. —Ecclesiastes 9, 10