There never was a marriage with no pain

But they let hurts be helps along the way

To greater union, making faults their gain

And forging gold from dross, marble from clay.

 

The secret of their love is not the loss

Of self, but rather each self turning outward,

Finding its centre in that holy cross

Where love meets love, and this world reaches upward.

 

Where some would be contented with the least

That they could do, for fear of ending badly,

Their love gives more—puts on a splendid feast—

Embraces more loving, more learning, more children gladly.

 

O you who seek to discover a lasting bond,

Come find in theirs a love both true and fond.

 

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