Though I spake with the tongues of men and angels, and yet had no love, I were even as sounding brass: or as a tinkling cymbal.
And though I could prophesy, and understood all secrets, and all knowledge: yea, if I had all faiths so that I could move mountains out of their places, and yet had no love, I were nothing.
And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and though I gave my body even that I burned, and yet had no love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long, and is courteous. Love envieth not. Love doth not frowardly, swelleth not,
dealeth not dishonestly, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh not evil,
rejoiceth not in iniquity: but rejoiceth in the truth,
suffereth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth in all things.
Though that prophesying fail, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge vanish away, yet love falleth never away.
For our knowledge is imperfect, and our prophesying is imperfect.
But when that which is perfect is come then that which is imperfect shall be done away.
When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I imagined as a child. But as soon as I was a man, I put away childishness.
Now we see in a glass even in a dark speaking: but then shall we see face to face. Now I know imperfectly: but then shall I know even as I am known.
Now abideth faith hope, and love, even these three: but the chief of these is love.
|
|