Charity suffers, is patient and kind,
Leaving all envy and cold pride behind.
It seeks not its own, nor is easily stirred,
Thinking no evil in thought or in word.
It finds no delight when iniquity grows,
But truth is the light that it fosters and shows.
It bears every burden, believes in the sight,
It hopes ever onward, and endures through the night.
So heed me, my brothers—if love be not there,
The soul is but hollow, a breath in the air.
For all things shall wither, and all things must fade,
But cling to the love that the heavens have made.
For charity—pure, the great love of the King—
Is the source of the life that the heavens will bring.
It faileth not ever; it stands through the day,
And those who possess it shall find the right way.