1 Though we could speak with angel tongues,
Or with prophetic skill
Survey the future at a glance
And read events at will;
Had we a faith in God so strong
As mountains to remove,
Yet all were fruitless, all in vain,
If not inspired by love.

2 And though our goods to feed the poor
Our liberal hands bestow,
Or yield our bodies to the flames
Our ardent zeal to show;
Our deeds, though like the noon-day sun,
Of no avail would prove,
No sacrifice a merit claims
That is not crowned by love.

3 Love suffers long and envies not,
Endures, forbears, believes,
All things it hopes, all things forgives,
It trusts but ne'er deceives;
And now abide to every soul
These graces from above,
Faith, hope, and love, immortal three,
But chief of all is love.