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1 Corinthians 13
1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
(8,6,8,6)
Though perfect eloquence adorned
my sweet persuading tongue,
Though I could speak in higher strains
than ever angel sung;
Though prophecy my soul inspired,
and made all myst’ries plain:
Yet, were I void of Christian love,
these gifts were all in vain.
Nay, though my faith with boundless pow’r
ev’n mountains could remove
I still am nothing, if I’m void
of charity and love.
Although with lib’ral hand I gave
my goods the poor to feed,
Nay, gave my body to the flames,
still fruitless were the deed.
Love suffers long; love envies not;
but love is ever kind;
She never boasteth of herself,
nor proudly lifts the mind.
Love harbours no suspicious thought,
is patient to the bad;
Grieved when she hears of sins and crimes,
and in the truth is glad.
Love no unseemly carriage shows,
nor selfishly confined;
She glows with social tenderness,
and feels for all mankind.
Love beareth much, much she believes,
and still she hopes the best;
Love meekly suffers many a wrong,
though sore with hardship pressed.
Love still shall hold an endless reign
in earth and heav’n above,
When tongues shall cease, and prophets fail,
and ev’ry gift but love.
Here all our gifts imperfect are;
but better days draw nigh,
When perfect light shall pour its rays,
and all those shadows fly.
Like children here we speak and think,
amused with childish toys;
But when our pow’rs their manhood reach,
we’ll scorn our present joys.
Now dark and dim, as through a glass,
are God and truth beheld;
Then shall we see as face to face,
and God shall be unvailed.
Faith, Hope, and Love, now dwell on earth,
and earth by them is blest;
But Faith and Hope must yield to Love,
of all the graces best.
Hope shall to full fruition rise,
and Faith be sight above:
These are the means, but this the end;
for saints for ever love.
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