1 Corinthians 13

Though I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have no love, I am become a clanging brass, or a clashing cymbal.

Though I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

And though I sell all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it avails me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love envies not; love makes no parade, is not puffed up,

is not rude, nor selfish, nor easily provoked. Love bears no malice, never rejoices over wrong-doing,

but rejoices when the truth rejoices.

It knows how to be silent, it is trustful, hopeful, patient, enduring.

Love never fails; but though there are prophecies, they will fail; though there are tongues, they will cease; though there is knowledge, it will be superseded.

For our knowing is imperfect, and our prophesying is imperfect;

but when the perfect is come, then the perfect will be done away.

When I was a child I spoke like a child, felt like a child, thought like a child; now that I am become a man, I have done with childish things.

For now we see as in a mirror, and are baffled, but then face to face; now I know in fragments, but then shall I understand even as I also have been understood.

Faith, Hope, Love endure - these three; but the greatest of these is Love.