If it could fail, it would cease to be love. It would be something that we have, again, substituted for it. In possession of true God breathed , God imprinted love, and in complete and unconditional surrender to that love, failure is just not an element. It's not a part of love's vocabulary, not a part of it's native tongue. Love goes the necessary distances.
Love always protects, it always trusts, it always hopes, it always perseveres.
Love neve r fails. What we have dared to call love, that imagined form, this is the thing we have misused and misunderstood for too long. It fails us and leaves scars upon our flesh and upon the hidden tables of the heart. In our ignorance we called it love. The dream of love possesses some or all of these symptoms but is void of the substance of love's divine and sovereign reality.