Skip to main content Skip to search Skip to main menu Skip to footer

Editorial June 19, 1989 Issue

Dear Reader

Allison W. Phinney, Jr.

Thinking of Sentinel readers, I've sometimes thought of part of a poem by John Hall Wheelock titled "To You, Perhaps Yet Unborn." The poem begins:

It is night, and we are alone together; your head
Bends over the open book.... Oh, sacred hour
That makes us one....

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

Sign up for unlimited access

You’ve accessed 1 piece of free Sentinel content

^{Subscription aid available}

^{No card required}