You’re now sealed to my daughter. It’s all said and done.
I suppose all expect me to call you my son.
And they also assume that you’ll now call me “Dad.”
I’m quite sure if we don’t it will make our wives mad.
But let’s each understand, just between you and me
that we’re both on probation. Both need time to see
if the other is worthy, if each one deserves
to be called by a name that is sacred and serves
as a constant reminder of others we love.
For you it’s a father who watches above
with great expectations that you to his name
will bring virtue and honor. For me it’s the same,
except that I’ve yet much of life to endure,
some time yet to prove that my son can be sure
that the choices I make will confer through my name
a birthright unblemished by passion or shame.
The world would belittle a virtuous man,
a husband whose wife is assured she can plan
when mortality’s ended, that he at the veil
will stand ready to answer, that he will not fail
to worthily enter. Thus happy they’ll spend
their forevers together, their worlds without end.
Let’s hold in our memories the covenants made
in the house of our God. We never must trade
our heavenly birthright for pottage impure.
To eternal commitments let’s always defer.
Tell her often you love her and show her you do.
I trust you to always prove faithful and true.
Should you ever be tempted to wander or stray,
remember these verses, then kneel down and pray.
It’s my promise to you that you’ll never be sad
nor regret that you’ve honored me, calling me “Dad.”
One day I will also observe from above
the beautiful daughter I gave you to love.
If you’re worthy to keep her when life’s said and done,
I’ll be grateful and proud that I’ve called you my son.

Every father of a daughter wants her to find and marry someone whose highest priority in life will be her happiness. I have five daughters, and therefore, five sons-in-law. I’m just old fashioned enough to insist that each of them talk to me before they “officially” pop the question. All have done so. I made it clear in our discussion that I would be satisfied with no less than their absolute and total devotion, and that I expected them to keep and honor all the covenants they had made and would make in the House of the Lord. I believe every father has the right to expect such. Soon after my son-in-law Richie Harris asked me for my daughter Sandy’s hand, I decided a poem would be a good way to remind him of our conversation; and I began its composition a few days later. I had it memorized and ready for the wedding breakfast. Unfortunately, circumstances did not permit me to recite it there as I had planned. So I simply gave it to Sandy to give to him a few days later. In the poem, addressed to Richie, I make reference to his father, Richard Harris—one of the finest men I have known—who died suddenly from a heart attack while Richie was serving his mission in the Philippines. It’s rare in my poems that I make such a personal reference, but that reference makes it no less applicable to all other worthy young men beginning their eternity with a choice and worthy young woman.