Is Marriage Forever?

One of the greatest romance stories of all history is that of

Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. Elizabeth was a normal

active girl up to age 15, but then life ceiling tumbled in for her. She

became an invalid, who for the next 20 years was confined to bed in a

darkened room. She was a prisoner of pain and loneliness. Her

mother died when she was 22, and she was left in the hands of a cruely

stern father. Later, her favorite brother was taken by a drowning

accident. Few people have ever written of the depths of despair as

she did.

In spite of her tragic and lonely life, she managed to write poetry

of such quality that it was published. She made a name for herself

among the world of poets. In 1845, after her 38th birthday, a poet six

years younger than her, by the name of Robert Browning, wrote to

her, and asked if he could visit. Her spirit was willing, but her flesh

was weak, and she was reluctant to let any man see her frail and

tortured body. He was insistent, however, and so the day came when

he entered her darkened room.

The light of love altered the darkness of her life almost instantly.

They began to write letters to each other, and her health took a

sudden positive turn. She wrote later that love drew her gently back

from the gates of death. Her father fought this love, and forced them

to carry on their friendship in secrecy. After a year of this, with a

friends help, she stole away, and was married to Robert Browning.

Her father never forgave her, and they never met again.

Her wedded life was a taste of heaven. Love lifted her from 20

years in bed to a life of adventure with her husband. They went to

Italy, and together wrote great poetry. She bore Robert a son, and

she became famous for the poetry her love inspired. One day she

handed him a little pile of poems and said, "Read these, if you don't

like them tear them up." These were the now famous Sonnets From

the Portuguese. It is said of them, "No purer expression of a heart on

fire with love has ever been written." The most famous of all is this

one which introduces us to our subject.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to depths and bredth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quite need, by sun and candle light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

The question is, was her hope of a better love after death a vain

hope? Is this merely poetic dreaming, with no foundation in fact?

Does love last forever? Does death become the dividing line that

divorces all true lovers? These are not minor questions, but ones

which all loving mates ask at some time or another.

It is fascinating to study the marriages of great men of God, and

see how the hope of reunion with their mates is such a vital force in

their lives. When William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army,

stood at the side of his wife's grave, he spoke these words, "I have

never turned from her these 40 years for any journeyings on my

mission of mercy, but I longed to get back, and have counted the

weeks, days, and hours which should take me again to her side."

After some other words concerning his sorrow he said, "When I have

served my Christ and my generation according to the will of God,

then I trust that she will bid me welcome to the skies."

Jonathan Edwards, one of the greatest preachers and theologians

America has ever produced, did not die speaking of books and

theology, but rather, of his dear wife, Sarah. His final words were,

"Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the

uncommon union which has so long subsisted between us has been of

such a nature as I trust is spiritual and therefore will continue

forever."

The fascinating book, The Courtship Of Mr. Lincoln, ends with

these hopeful words of Mary Todd, that great president's devoted

wife--"The only consolation left me, is the certainty, that each day