1 Corinthians, XIII. Paraphrased

Were all the power of elocution mine,
An angel's voice, and harmony divine;
The boasted gifts, with charity uncrown'd,
Were like the tinkling cymbal's empty sound.
Endow'd with knowledge — though before my eye,
Display'd the ample fields of science lie;
The pow'r of miracles could I attain,
If charity be wanting, all is vain!
To feed the hungry, and relieve the poor,
Should zeal mistaken lavish all my store
Nay, should I give my body to the flame,
And win the glory of a martyr's name:
If charity be absent, all is lost,
My zeal is but an empty, idle boast!
Sweet charity, long-suff'ring, meek and kind,
Inspires with peace and joy the humble mind.
Her heart no proud disdainful passion swells,
Nor envy in her gentle bosom dwells:
No unbecoming selfish care she knows,
But ev'ry social virtue round her flows:
Averse to take affronts her placid smile
Looks down on malice, and suspects no guile.
She finds no joy in sin's deceitful charms,
For sacred truth with nobler pleasure warms.
The num'rous ills of life she patient bears,
While faith looks upward, and forbids her fears;
Hope rises cheerful, with expectant smiles,
And all the tedious hours of pain beguiles.

Immortal charity improv'd shall shine,
When prophecies and tongues their pow'r resign;
When mortal knowledge fails its glimm'ring ray,
Lost in the blaze of full etherial day.
Imperfect all we teach, and all we know,
In this frail state, this little world below;
But when we reach the worlds of heav'nly light,
Then shall fair knowledge shine forever bright;
Nor the least shade of imperfection rise
In all the blissful regions of the skies.

When reason dawns upon the infant mind,
How low the thoughts! the knowledge how confin'd!
But when th' increasing ray full vigour gains,
What once the child admir'd, the man disdains.
How weak the best ideas form'd below!
The fairest, brightest views which mortals know,
Like distant objects in perspective show.
But when the bright meridian shall appear,
Our eyes shall see the heav'nly glories near;
These weak, faint notions, shall forgotten die.
Amid the boundless wonders of the sky.

Faith, hope, and charity, on earth remain,
To guide our steps, and sweeten mortal pain;
But lovely charity superior shines,
Till perfect bliss the sacred flame refines.