Nichols High School - Log Yearbook (Oxford, NC)

Page 19 text:

In niemoriam Grief such as ours when one beloved has left us has no language save silence and tears, for when we think of Dr. C. K. Proctor, our beloved Superintendent, we feel words are too inadequate to ever express our ap- preciation of his great life. He was truly great in every way — in physical build, in mind, and in spirit. His interest in children and others with whom he was closely associat- ed, in their pleasures and their problems, his knowledge of their needs, his sympathetic attitude toward their shortcomings, his ready apprecia- tion of their accomplishments, his consuming desire to lead through errors and pitfalls of youth into glorious young manhood and young womanhood, and his constant determination ever to hold before them the image of his Lo rd and Master — all these qualifications, coupled with an unusual group of the business details of the several departmental activities of the Or- phanage combined to make him an ideal Superintendent. Across the dark cloud of the inscrutable mystery of death shines the rainbow of immortality and we can believe and hope that eternal form shall divide eternal soul from all beside and we shall know him when we meet. He wrought mightily for God and Others while here, and when the final record shall be unrolled, we know that his name will be written high by the Angel that writes with a pen of gold among the names of those who loved their fellow-man, for his was a life in civic action warm ; a soul on highest mission sent ; a potent voice for betterment ; a pillar steadfast in the storm. He made his friends by being one. And on His friendship men relied; In every deed that need be done He made the Golden Rule his guide. His friendly presence brought a cheer That nmde the day seem wondrous fair; His daily living so sincere Made others love him everywhere; He was a friend. No task too great for him to do And in the doing was a smile That aided as he carried through The deeds that were so tvell worthwhile. The brightness of his day is gone, We see the setting of the sun; If only we could carry on Aiid live a life like he has done! He was a friend. Just yonder on the star-kissed shore He carries on in nobler way; Though we can see his face no more. Thanks for his friendship for a day. If on his tomb I could indite The epitaph I have in mind; One phrase is all that I could write. The truest words that I could find: He was a friend.