If with the tongues of humans
I were to speak
or even angels
but love
I do not have
I have become
a resounding brass (jar?)
or a clanging cymbal
and
if I were to have (the gift) of prophecy
and even to understand all the mysteries
and every knowledge
and
if I have all faith
so as to move mountains
but love I do not have
I am nothing
and even if I have given away all my possessions
and if I given my body over to be burned
but love I do not have
I gain nothing.
O Love, O God who created me, in your love recreate me.
O Love, who redeemed me,
fill up in me whatever part of your love
has fallen into neglect within me.
O Love, O God, who first loved me,
grant that with my whole heart,
and with my whole soul,
and with my whole strength,
I may love you.
Gertrude the Great