Chapter 13.
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.
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.
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.
Charity suffereth long and is kind.
Charity envieth not.
Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly,
seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not
in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things,
hopeth all things, endureth all things.
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.
For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done
away.
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.
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.
And now abideth faith, hope, charity.
These three, but the greatest of these is charity.