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Poem	Love and charity. 1 Cor. 13:2-7, 13. Let Pharisees of high esteem Their faith and zeal declare, All their religion is a dream, If love be wanting there. Love suffers long with patient eye, Nor is provoked in haste; She lets the present injury die, And long forgets the past. [Malice and rage, those fires of hell, She quenches with her tongue; Hopes and believes, and thinks no ill, Though she endure the wrong.] [She nor desires nor seeks to know The scandals of the time; Nor looks with pride on those below, Nor envies those that climb.] She lays her own advantage by To seek her neighbor's good; So God's own Son came down to die, And bought our lives with blood. Love is the grace that keeps her power In all the realms above; There faith and hope are known no more, But saints for ever love.
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