Every verse here opens — tap a number for what that one means.
1Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
2And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
Commentary
1 Corinthians 13, explained
What 1 Corinthians 13 is saying
Situated between chapters 12 and 14 on spiritual gifts, this hymn to agape functions as the epistle's theological center of gravity. Without love, the most spectacular gifts—tongues, prophecy, mountain-moving faith, martyrdom—are nothing. Love's attributes are described in fifteen verbal clauses, and its permanence is contrasted with the partial and temporary nature of current knowledge and prophecy.
The background behind it
While sometimes read in isolation as a philosophical or romantic text, this chapter is fundamentally ecclesiological—written to a specific community abusing specific gifts. The literary form draws on Jewish wisdom hymns and Hellenistic encomia but serves a distinctly christological purpose; many scholars note that substituting 'Christ' for 'love' reveals a portrait of Jesus.
Themes running underneath
Agape is not sentiment but the governing virtue that gives all other spiritual gifts their purpose and legitimacy. The eschatological horizon—'when the perfect comes'—situates present spiritual experience as partial and anticipatory. The triad of faith, hope, and love, with love as the greatest, provides a theological hierarchy of abiding realities.
Why it still matters
This chapter stands as a permanent corrective to any spirituality that prizes spectacular experience over costly love. It redefines greatness in the community of faith.
Scripture text: King James Version — public domain.