Covet earnestly the best gifts,

Yet show I unto you a more excellent way.


Though I speak

With the tongues of men

And (even) of Angels,

And have not love,

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 move mountains,

And have not love,

I am nothing (It profiteth the nothing).

And though I bestow all my goods,

And though I give my body

To be burned,

And have not love,

It profiteth the nothing.


Love suffereth long:

Love is kind.

Love envieth not,

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.


Love never faileth,

But prophecies shall fail,

Tongues shall cease,

And knowledge 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, Love,

This trinity;

But the greatest of these is Love.


Follow after Love.

And desire spiritual gifts,

But rather that ye may prophesy.