Lincoln University - Lion Yearbook (Lincoln University, PA)

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To the Class of 1950: You arc launching the hark of your career on the sea of life at the mid-point of as turbu- lent a century as humankind has ever witnessed. You arc leaving the comparatively safe harbor of your Alma Mater to battle the buffeting winds of change and chance. Unless your courage and fortitude hold firmly the tiller, these winds would upset your frail craft. It is to be hoped that you will take on board the seaworthy principle that the genius of Amcr- ica is hostile to the supremacy of a few voca- tions and that all work which is necessary for the common good is honorable. It is our wish that you have developed in these four years at L'ncoln the strength and courage and skill to steer your career on an even keel in spite of wind and weather. Carefully planned ingenuity may keep you abreast of the winds of change, and the winds of chance arc never very formidable to a g x d helmsman. Dean of Students

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joseph newton hill clean „ tLcolt. e9c Dear Friends: Time, after its own quiet but certain fashion, has at last made a significant academic unit out of you. Yet, as soon as you appear as a unified class, you must face an hour of separation. This condition should not seem odd. It suggests the state of the world that you must now walk boldly out to meet. When fortuitous circum- stances—and they abound beyond campus grounds—make you wince, do not exclaim along with our fateful hero: “The time is out of joint. You will he called upon to make the so-called accidents of life conform to care- ful planning. You will probably doubt many things after today: the future of your own minority group, the tenor of the times, the reason for your very existence. Yet these doubts represent the very kind of skepticism, healthy skepticism, that real education engenders. Keep it healthy. For out of such doubts can come the challenge to create a genuine philosophy of life. I have faith in you. This is one aspect of my philosophy. Yes, in spite of all the nugatory events which may have crowded the past few years, the preachings and promptings I have given, the discipline I have applied, the advice regarding study, manners, dress, punctuality, language, the vain admonitions of old age, in spite of all these—I want you to know that I have faith that you will succeed. I do not refer to material progress, but to matters of real hu- man merit. Notwithstanding Cooper, Carter, McCoy, Tom, Dick, and Harry, this aspect of faith in human beings is firmly rooted. Were it not so, my night would indeed be dark and I should find myself hopelessly far from home. You are a unit destined to do good. This is at once prophetic and real. I shall eagerly await each harbinger of glad tidings which, during the ensuing years, brings proof of your achievements. May you take this hour of graduation to trim your tapers so that the light of your good deeds may shine upon the darkness of this naughty world. Dean of the College

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To My Good Friends of the Class of 1950: With halting pen I come to perform this priv ileged role. I confess I have wittingly shied from it; indeed, it is suspected that no class really expects or desires any advice from its faculty advisor. At least with this year's precedent, the tendency seems to be, at the late date of one's senior year, to select for advisor him from whom one may expect the least advice. There is wisdom in that selection. For learning and living are hardly the process of receiving and following advice. Rather, somewhat on your own this year, you have been faced with the practical necessity of independence and creativity. Though something of a jolt to your heretofore guarded life, this growing necessity has in itself the dy- namic drive to make of you noble men who will do noble deeds. With x-ray eyes, see into the world and yourselves; with stethoscopic ears, listen below the surface of life; act, with your deepest intuition as your guide. It is my fond pleasure to inform you through Tagore that . . . the flood at last has come to your dry river bed; Cry for the boatman, cut the cordage, launch the boat ...” Truly yours, Roscoe Faculty Adviser Eleven