Читать книгу The New Testament In Scots - William L. Lorimer - Страница 12

MARK’S GOSPEL

1 HERE BEGINS THE Gospel o Jesus Christ. In Isaiah the Prophet it staunds written:

‘Behaud, I send furth my messenger afore thy face

tae redd thy gate,

the voice o ane cryin out i the muirs:

“Prepare the gate o our Lord,

mak strecht his pads”.’

An een sae it wis at John the Baptízer kythed i the muirs, preachin at men suid repent an be baptízed tae win forgíeness o their sins; an the haill o the laundart fowk o Judaea an aa the indwallers in Jerusalem gaed out til him an confessed their sins an hed baptism at his haund i the Jordan.

John wis cleadit in a raploch coat o caumel’s hair an hed a lethern girth about his weyst, an locusts an foggie-bees’ hinnie wis his fairin. The owrecome o his preachin wis ey: “Ane at is michtier nor me is comin efter me, at I amna wurdie tae lout doun afore an lowse the points o his shuin. I hae baptízed ye wi watter, but this ane will baptíze ye wi the Halie Spírit.”

About that time, Jesus cam frae Nazareth in Galilee an wis baptízed bi John i the Jordan. Juist as he wis comin up outen the watter, he saw the lift rive abreid an the Spírit comin doun on him like a dou, an a voice cam out o the lift: “Thou is my beluvit Son, wi thee I am weill-pleised.”

Strecht on the back o that the Spírit drave him awà tae the muirs, an there he bade the feck o sax ouks, tempit aa the time bi Sautan; an tho he hed nane but the wild beass tae neipour him, the angels fettelt him.

EFTER JOHN HED been incarcerate, Jesus fuir tae Galilee an there preached the Gospel o God. “The time hes comed,” he said, “an the Kíngdom o God is naurhaund: repent ye, an belíeve i the Gospel.”

Ae day he wis gaein alangside the Loch o Galilee, whan he saw Símon an his brither Andro castin their net i the watter—they war fishers tae tredd—an he said til them, “Come awà efter me, an I s’ mak ye men-fishers”; an strecht they quat their nets an fallowt him.

Traivlin on a bittock faurer, he saw Jeames, the son o Zebedee, an his brither John. They war intil their boat, tae, thrang abeetin their nets; an strecht he cried them, an they left their faither i the boat wi the hiremen an gaed awà efter him.

FIRST THEY FUIR til Capernaüm, an there, whaniver the Sabbath cam, Jesus gaed intil the sýnagogue an yokit til expundin the Scripturs, an aa the congregâtion wis dumfounert at his mainner o teachin, for he taucht as ane at hed authoritie, an no like the Doctors o the Law. Nou,¹ there wis a man wi an onclean spírit i the sýnagogue that Sabbath, an it wisna lang or he skirlt out, “What want ye wi hiz, Jesus o Nazareth? Ar ye comed tae destroy us? I ken wha ye ar, at div I: the Halie Ane o God!”

But Jesus challenged him shairplie: “Be quait,” qo he, “an come ye out o him!” At that the spírit ruggit an runched the man sairlie an, lattin a loud skelloch, gaed out o him.

Aabodie wis fair stoundit, an they tuik the maitter throu haunds. “What’s this, nou, avà?” they speired at ither. “Sic teachin, an the authoritie he speaks wi! Wha iver hard the like o’d? An see hou he gíes the onclean spírits their orders, an they een dae his will!” An belyve the souch o his wark in Capernaüm gaed aagate throu the haill o that kintra.

STRECHT AWA EFTER the skailin they gaed wi Jeames an John til Símon an Andro’s houss. Símon’s guidmither wis lyin in her bed wi the fivver, an they tauld Jesus about her at aince. He gaed up tae the bedside an, grippin her bi the haund, helpit her tae win up on her feet; an immedentlie the fivver quat her, an she begoud seein efter their mait an aa.

I th’ eenin, efter the sun wis doun, they brocht til him aa at wis oniegate ailin or pestit wi ill spírits, till ’maist aa the toun wis gethert forenent the door. He hailed a hantle o fowk at wis fashed wi ae complènt or anither, an cuist out ill spírits monie feck; an the ne’er a wurd wad he lat the spírits speak, because they kent wha he wis.

NEIST MORNIN HE rase afore skreich o day an wis out an awà til a lanesome bit an there prayed. Peter an his companions gaed in sairch o him, an whan they faund him, they tauld him at aabodie wis seekin him. But he said tae them, “Lat us awà frae this, awà tae the laundart touns i the round. I maun preach i them, tae: that is een what I cam out for tae dae.”

Sae he gaed throu the haill o Galilee, preachin i their sýnagogues an castin out ill spírits.

AE DAY A lipper cam up til him an fleitched him on his boued knees, sayin, “An ye hae the will, ye hae the can tae mak me clean.”

Jesus wis wae for the man an raxed out his haund an laid it on him, sayin, “I hae the will, be ye clean”; an i that same maument the liprosie quat him, an he wis clean. Syne he sent him awà, but mair adae, wi a stour warnishment: “Mind an no mouth a wurd o this tae nae lívin,” qo he. “Gae shaw yoursel tae the príest, an mak the offerins for your clensin at Moses ordeined, for pruif til the warld o your betterness.”

But the lipper he wisna weill tae the gate afore he begoud trokin an toutin the storie hereawà-thereawà, sae at Jesus dochtna be seen gaein intil onie o the touns, but bade aback in faur-out-about bits. But still an on fowk ey thranged til him frae aa the airts.

2 EFTER SOME DAYS he cam back til Capernaüm. Wurd gaed round at he wis back hame, an siccan a thrang gethert at there wis nae mair room for them, no een about the door. He hed begoud preachin tae them, whan fowr men cam wi a blastit man cairriein on a matrèss, seekin him. Whan they faund at they coudna win forrit til him wi their fríend for the hirsel o fowk, they tirred the pairt o the ruif abuin whaur he wis staundin, an loot doun the matrèss wi the blastit man lyin on it throu the hole they hed made. Seein their faith, Jesus said tae the man, “My son, your sins is forgíen.”

Nou, the’ war some Doctors o the Law sittin by an thinkin intil themsels, “What wey can the chíel say sic a thing, na? It’s aivendoun blasphemie! Wha can forgíe sins, binna God alane?”

Jesus read aff their thochts like a buik, an said til them, “What wey hae ye sic thochts in your hairts? Whilk o the twa things is aisiest—tae say til the blastit man, ‘Your sins is forgíen’, or tae say til him, ‘Staund up, tak up your matrèss, an traivel’? But, tae gar ye ken at the Son o Man hes the richt on the yird tae forgíe sins”—an here he turned tae the blastit man an said til him, “Staund up, I bid ye, an tak up your matrèss an gang your waas hame.”

At that the man strechtit til his feet an immedentlie tuik up his matrèss an gaed awà afore the luikin een o them aa. They war aa fair stoundit an glorifíed God an said, “Ne’er saw we the like o that!”

SYNE HE GAED out the road alang the lochside again, an the haill thrang cam out til him, an he taucht them. As he gaed alang, he saw Leví, the son o Alphaeus, sittin at his dask i the Towbuith, an said til him, “Fallow me”; an Leví rase an fallowt him.

Ae day efterhin he wis dennerin wi Leví, an monie tax-uplifters an ither siclike outlans wis at the buird wi him an his disciples. The’ war a fell wheen o sic at ey fallowt him about. Whan the Doctors o the Law at belanged the Pharisees’ pairtie saw him takkin his mait wi sic clamjamphrie, they said til his disciples, “What wey dis your Maister tak his mait wi tax-uplifters an outlans?”

Jesus hard it an said tae them, “It’s no the stout an hardie hes need o a doctor, but the síck an ailin; I camna for tae caa weill-daein fowk, but sinners.”

AE DAY AT John’s disciples an the Pharisees wis keepin a fast, fowk cam an speired at Jesus, “What for is John’s disciples an the disciples o the Pharisees fastin, an yours isna?”

Jesus answert them, “As lang as the bridegroom is by them, the waddiners canna fast, canna they no? Weill-a-wat they canna fast as lang as they hae the bridegroom by them! But a day will come whan the bridegroom will be taen awà frae them, an whan that day comes, than they will fast.

“Naebodie platches an auld dud wi a bit onwaukit claith: an he dis, the new eik rives awà at the auld claith an maks the screid waur nor afore. Naither dis onie-ane fill new wine intil auld wine-skins: an he dis, the new wine will brust the skins, an the wine will be skailed, an the skins connacht. Na, new wine gaes intil new skins.”

AE SABBATH HE wis gingin throu the corns, an his disciples begoud puin the ickers as they gaed alang.

“See til them,” the Pharisees said til him: “what wey ar they brakkin the Sabbath?”

Jesus answert, “Hae ye ne’er read i your Bibles what Dauvit did whan him an his men wis sair straitit for provand an hungrisome—hou he gaed intil the Houss o God, it wis in the days whan Abíathar wis Heid-Príest, an aitit the saucred laifs at it isna leisome for onie tae ait, forbye the príests, an gae some til his men an aa?”

This, tae, he said til them: “The Sabbath wis made for man, an no man for the Sabbath. Sae the Son o Man is maister een o the Sabbath.”

3 HE GAED AGAIN intil a sýnagogue. The’ war a man there wi a shirpit airm, an they tentit him gleglie tae see gin he wad hail him on the Sabbath, sae at they micht hae a faut tae chairge him wi.

Jesus said til the man wi the shirpit airm, “Staund up an come forrit intil the bodie o the sýnagogue.” Syne tae the lave o them he said, “Hou think ye? Is it leisome tae dae guid on the Sabbath, or tae dae ill—tae sauf life, or tae tak it awà?” But the ne’er a wurd spak they.

Than, glowrin round at them wi bruindin een, for he wis sair vexed wi their waukitness o hairt, he said til the man, “Rax out your airm”; an he raxed it out, an it wis made haill an sound aince mair.

At that the Pharisees liftit an immedentlie begoud tae collogue wi the Herodians; an thegither they socht hou they micht hae him pitten tae deith.

SYNE JESUS GAED awà tae the Loch wi his disciples, an a fell thrang o fowk frae Galilee fallowt him. Frae Judaea, tae, an Jerusalem, frae Idumaea an be-east the Jordan, frae Tyre an Sídon an thereawà, fowk at hed hard tell o aa he wis daein cam til him in hirsels. Sae he baud his disciples haud a boat lyin inbye for him, for fear o bein brouzelt bi the crouds; for sae monie wis the cuirs he wrocht at aa sic as wis trauchelt wi ills an incomes birzed sair on him, sae gyte war they tae git layin a haund on him.

The onclean spírits, tae, at the sicht o him, flang themsels at his feet, spraichin out, “Ye ar the Son o God!” But he warnished them shairplie no tae lat ken wha he wis.

JESUS NOU SOCHT the hills an sent for them at he wantit, an they quat their hames an cam til him. Sune out o thir he waled a twalsome tae be his companions, at he coud send furth tae preach the Gospel, wi pouer tae cast out ill spírits. First o the twal wis SIMON, at he caa’d PETER; neist, the twasome, JEAMES THE SON O ZEBEDEE an his brither JOHN, at he gae the taename o BOANERGES, or SONS O THUNDER; syne ANDRO, PHILIP, BARTHOLOMEW, MATTHEW, TAMMAS, JEAMES THE SON O ALPHAEUS, THADDAEUS, SIMON THE CAUNANAEAN,² an, lest, JUDAS ISCARIOT, at efterhin betrayed him.

AE DAY HE gaed intil a houss, an again sic thrangs o fowk gethert about at Jesus an his fríends coudna git takkin their mait.

Whan his faimlie hard o it, they set out tae git a haud o him: “Jesus hes gane out o his wit,” they said.

The Doctors o the Law at hed comed up frae Jerusalem hed anither wey o it: “Beëlzebub’s i the man,” they said; “it’s wi the help o the Maister Fíend at he casts out the ill spírits.” Sae he cried them til him an spak tae them in parables.

“Hou can Sautan cast out Sautan?” qo he. “Gin a kíngdom is sindert atwà, pairt fechtin pairt, it canna staund, an gin a faimlie is sindert atwà, it winna can staund; sae gin Sautan hes taen up airms again himsel an is sindert atwà, he canna staund aitherins, but is by wi it.

“Nae-ane can brak intil a stout carle’s houss an spuilie his gear, binna he first binnds the stout carle hard: aince he hes him siccart, syne he can rook an herrie the houss at aa will.

“Atweill, I tell ye, men will be forgíen aa ither sins an aa ither blasphemies at they mou, but blasphemie again the Halie Spírit will ne’er be forgíen a man: that sin an the gilt o it bides iver an ey.” This he said because they threapit at he hed an onclean spírit.

AN NOU HIS mither an his brithers cam up til the houss an, staundin outbye, sent wurd ben til him tae come out tae them. A feck o fowk wis sittin round him, an they said til him, “Your mither an your brithers an sisters is thereout speirin for ye.”

Jesus answert, “Wha is my mither? An wha is my brithers?” Syne he glowred aa round at the fowk sittin about him an said, “Here is my mither an my brithers. Ilkane at dis God’s will is a brither an a sister an a mither o mine.”

4 AINCE MAIR HE set tae the teachin at the lochside, an sic an ondeemous thrang bourached about him at he buid ging abuird a boat an lean him doun in it. The haill o the fowk stuid³ on the laund at the watter-lip; an, as they stuid there, monie-thing taucht he them in parables.

Amang the lave the’ war this ane: “Hairken me,” qo he. “A sawer aince gaed out tae saw; an, as he cuist his seed, some pairt o it fell alang the fit-road, an the birds cam an gorbelt it up. Ither seed fell on scaupie grund, whaur the moul wis ebb, an up it brashed, because it hed nae deepth o yird ablò it: but whan the sun rase, it wis aa scouthert an dowed awà for the want o ruits. Ither seed fell amang thrissles, an the thrissles shuitit up an smoored it, an no a heid o corn cam o’d. But some seed fell on braw grund, an it brairdit weill an raxed intil a bonnie crap, threttiefauld, saxtiefauld—ay, a hunderfauld—biz what wis sawn. Lat him at hes lugs in his heid hairken,” qo he.

Efterhin, whan he wis awà frae the crouds an the stír, the Twal an the ither disciples speired him anent the parables, an he said tae them, “Ye hae been lippent wi the saicret o the Kíngdom o God, but tae the frem aathing is gíen in parables, for it is een God’s will

At they suid luik an better luik,

but see nane,

an hairken an better hairken,

but forstaund nane,

leist aiblins they suid mend,

an their sins be forgíen them.”

Than he said til them, “This parable blecks ye, na? What’ll ye mak o the lave o them, syne? The seed sawn bi the sawer is the Wurd. Them alang the fit-road is the fowk at the Wurd is sawn i their hairts, an nae shuner hae they hard it nor Sautan comes an cairries it awà, an they tyne what wis sawn i them. I the samelike wey, them at gat the seed in scaupie grund is the fowk at gledlie an blythelie taks up the Wurd, whaniver they hear it, but hes nae ruit in them; there is nae steiveness in them, an whan pyne or persecution maun be dree’d for the Wurd, belyve they stammer an faa. Syne there is them at gat the seed amang thrissles. They hear the Wurd, but warldlie kyaucht an care an the chaitrie glaumour o walth an aa kinkind o ither craves wins intil their hairts an smoors the Wurd, an nae crap comes o it avà. But them at gat the seed in guid grund is the fowk at hears the Wurd an walcomes it, an a braw crap comes o it, threttie, saxtie, a hunderfauld, biz the seed at wis sawn.”

This, tae, he said til them: “Whan ye fesh ben your cruisie, pit ye it aneth your meal-bowie, or stap ye it in ablò the box-bed? Div ye no set it up on the chimla-heid? Nocht is e’er hodden at is no tae be brocht intil the licht ae day, an nocht is e’er keepit hidlin at is no tae be made kent afore aa is dune. Lat him at hes lugs in his heid hairken.”

This he said til them, tae: “Tent ye weill what ye hear. The mair ye pit til’d, the mair ye s’ git frae’d, an a hantle abuit:

for til him at hes ocht

mair will be gíen,

an frae him at hes nocht

een his nocht will be taen awà.”

This he said forbye: “The Kíngdom o God is like whan a man casts seed on the grund, an sleeps an wauks, wauks an sleeps, ouk for ouk, an meantime the corn brairds an raxes up, himsel onkennin hou. The yird feshes up the crap the lane o her—first the pyle, syne the icker, syne the fu-boukit pickle i the icker. But whaniver the crap is that faur forrit, he taigles nane, but sends in the huik, because the time for shearin hes comed.”

Anither thing at he said wis this: “What will we liken the Kíngdom o God til? What will sair us for a pictur o it?

“What better nor a curn o mustart seed? Whan it is sawn, it is the littlest seed at there is, but aince it is in the moul, it raxes up an up till it owretaps aa ither gairden yirbs, an pits out sic wallie granes at the birds at flíes i the lift can bíeld i the shade o it.”

In his preachin o the Wurd tae the fowk, he yuised monie siclike parables confeirin wi their wit an uptak. Deed, til the fowk nae haet said he, an it wisna in parables: but til his disciples he brak doun aathing, whan they war bi their lanes.

THE SAME DAY, whan eenin cam on, he said til them, “Lat’s atowre tae the tither side o the Loch.” Sae they skailed the thrang an tuik him wi them i the boat whaur he wis sittin; an the’ war ither boats wi him forbye.

Belyve a fell wind begoud tae blaw, an the jaws jaupit intil the boat, till it wis naur at the sinkin. Meantime Jesus wis lyin asleep i the stern wi his heid on the coad. They waukent him, cryin til him, “Maister, carena-ye by, an us like tae be drouned?”

Sae he rase an shored the wind an caa’d tae the waves, “Wheesht ye, be quait”; an the wind dilled doun, an aa wis lown an caum. Syne he said til them, “What maks ye sic cuifs? Hae ye ey nae faith?” An they war fell feared an said til ither, “Wha can this be, at een wind an wave dis his biddin?”

5 SAE THEY WAN atowre the Loch tae the kintra o the Gerasenes. As shune as he cam aff the boat, a man wi an onclean spírit cam out frae the graffs tae meet him.

This man howffed i the graff chaumers, an the day wis by whan onie-ane coud siccar him, een wi a chein. Monitime they hed bund him wi aa kin o shackles an cheins, but the cheins he rave them sindrie, an the shackles he dang them asmash; an he wis as stour as nae man coud maister him. Day an nicht he wis ey thereout amang the graffs or on the braesides, rairin an haggin himsel wi stanes.

Whan he wis ey a lang gate aff, he saw Jesus, an he ran an flang himsel agrouf at his feet, an raired out wi a loud stevven, “What hae ye adae wi me, Jesus, Son o the Maist Híe God? For the luve of God, misgyde-me-na!” For Jesus hed sayen til him, “Come ye out o the man, ye onclean spírit!” Syne he speired him his name, an he tauld him, “My name is Legion, for there’s a gey feck o us”; an he threapit wi him no tae drive them furth o that kintra.

Nou, the’ war a muckle herd o swine feedin on the braeside; an the onclean spírits priggit him, sayin, “Send us tae thae swine owrebye, an lat’s ging intil them.” Jesus gíed them their will, an they cam outen the man an gaed intil the beass, an the haill herd—a twa thousand heid o swine—breishelt doun the heuch intil the loch an wis drouned in its watters.

Syne the herds at wis tentin the swine tuik leg frae the bit an toutit the news in toun an laundart; an the fowk cam out tae see for themsels what hed happent. Whan they cam up tae Jesus, they saw the man at hed haen the ill spírits sittin quaitlie there in his claes, aa wyss an warldlike—ay, the man at hed haen Legion in him, an nae ither! The sicht o him fleyed them, an whan ee-witnesses tauld them the outs an ins o what hed happent wi the man at hed haen the ill spírits an the swine, they socht him tae quat their kintra.

As he wis stappin abuird the boat, the man socht him tae be alloued tae ging wi him. But Jesus wadna lat him. “Gang your waas hame tae your fríends,” qo he, “an tell them hou the Lord hes taen pítie on ye, an what he hes dune for ye.” At that the man gaed awà an begoud tae troke the news throu the Ten Touns; an aabodie ferliet.

WHAN JESUS HED gotten back tae the wast side o the Loch, a fell thrang gethert in about him at the watterside. Whan he wis there, a sýnagogue-praisident, Jaírus bi name, cam up an, whan he saw Jesus, flang himsel at his feet an socht him sair for his help.

“My wee lassie’s at ane mae wi’d,” said he: “oh, an ye coud come, sir, an lay your haund on her—weill-a-wat, she’d win abuin’d an no díe!” Sae Jesus tuik the gate wi him, an a mairdle o fowk gaed alang wi him, dunshin an dirdin him, as he gaed.

Amang them wis a wuman at hed haen a rin o bluid for a twal year past. She hed been til ae doctor efter anither, an hed dree’d a feck at their haunds an waired on them aa she wis aucht forbye, an hedna gotten nae guid o’d avà, but raither hed gane frae ill tae waur. She hed hard what they war sayin about Jesus, an nou she wan up ahent him i the croud an titched his coat—“Gin I can as muckle as titch the claes o him,” said she til hersel, “I s’ git the better o my income”—an at that same maument the bluidin devauled, an she faund in her bodie at she wis redd o her auld complènt. Jesus kent o himsel strecht awà at pouer hed gane furth o him, an he turned round whaur he stuid i the mids o the thrang an said, “Wha titched my claes?”

His disciples answert, “Ye see the croud birzin about ye, an speir ye, ‘Wha titched me’?” But Jesus glowred aa round tae see wha hed dune it. Syne, chittrin wi dreid, because she kent what hed happent her, the wuman cam forrit an, flingin hersel doun at his feet, tauld him the haill truith.

“Dachter,” qo he til her, “your faith hes made ye weill, gang your waas wi my blissin, an bide quat o your auld complènt.”

The wurds wisna weill aff his tung, whan fowk cam frae Jaírus’ houss an said til him, “Your dachter is deid; ye needsna fash the Maister mair.”

Jesus made on no tae hear them an said til the sýnagogue-praisident, “Be nane fleyed; onlie hae faith.”

Syne, lattin naebodie ging wi him, forbye Peter an Jeames an Jeames’s brither John, he gaed til the houss, whaur he faund an unco stír an din o fowk greitin an yowlin. He gaed inbye an said til them, “What’s aa this stír an din an greitin? The bairn isna deid, she’s sleepin.” But they onlie leuch at him.

At that he set them aa outowre the doorstane; syne, takkin the bairn’s faither an mither an his ain three disciples wi him, he gaed ben til the chaumer whaur the wane wis lyin an, grippin her haund, said til her, “Talitha, koum”, whilk is the Aramâic for “Rise ye up, lassock, I bid ye”; an strecht the lassock rase an begoud tae traivel up an doun the chaumer. She wis twal year auld.

The lave wis fair by themsels wi mazement, but Jesus stricklie dischairgit them tae lat oniebodie ken ocht o the maitter. Syne he baud them gíe the lassie mait.

6 EFTER THIS HE quat that pairt an cam wi his disciples til his cauf-kintra.

Whan the Sabbath cam, he begoud tae teach i the sýnagogue. The place wis pang, an they war aa stoundit at him. “Whaur gat he aa that?” said they. “This wísdom he hes been gíen, what ar ye tae say o it? An thir unco warks he hes wrocht . . . ? Is he no Jesus the wricht, Mary’s son, an the brither o Jeames an Joses an Jude an Símon? An isna his sisters bidin here by us? ⁵⁶Set him up!”

But Jesus said til them, “A prophet wantsna honour, binna in his ain kintra, an amang his ain fríends, an in his ain faimlie.” An no a míracle docht he wurk there, forbye at he laid his haunds on a twa-three síck fowk an hailed them; an he ferliet at their want o faith.

EFTER THIS HE gaed round throu the smaa touns an clachans, teachin the fowk. An nou he caa’d the Twal til him an begoud tae send them out in twasomes, gíein them pouer owre onclean spírits. He baud them tak nocht for the road, but a rung onlie—nae breid, nae awmous-poke, no a bodle i their girth-pouch; they war tae traivel shoddit, but “Ye maunna,” qo he, “hae mair nor the ae sairk.”

This, tae, he said tae them: “Bide ye on i the first houss whaur ye finnd up-pittin till ye quat the pairt. Oniewey whaur they dinna walcome ye or winna hairken ye, lae the place an shak the stour aff your feet at your waa-gaein for a warnishment tae them.”

Sae they gaed their waas an preached aagate at men suid repent; an they cuist out monie ill spírits an anointit a hantle o síck fowk wi oil an cuired them.

WURD O AA this cam til Kíng Herod, for Jesus’ name wis weill-kent gin this time, an fowk wis sayin at he wis John the Baptízer risen frae the deid; that, they said, wis hou thir byous pouers wis a-wurkin in him. Ithers up-huid at he wis Elíjah; ithers again threapit he wis a new Prophet, like ane o the Prophets i the auld. But Herod, whan he hard what they war sayin, said, “It’s the man John, at I gart heid, risen frae the deid!”

Herod hed sent an arreistit John an cuissen him in jyle, in airns, tae pleisur Herodias (his brither Phílip’s wife, at he hed mairriet), because John hed sayen til him, “It’s no leisome for ye tae be mairriet on your guid-sister”; an for that Herodias hed a fell ill-will at him an wantit him pitten tae deith. But she coudna faa that, because Herod wis in daur o him, kennin him for an upricht an gudelie man, an fendit him frae skaith; an, for aa he wis sair pitten about ilka time he hard him, he ey hairkent him gledlie.

But the day cam at lang an lenth whan the bouls rowed richt for her, an that wis whan Herod gíed a birthday banqet til his nobles an offishers an the wale o the gentrice o Galilee, an her ain dachter cam in an daunced afore them, an Herod an the lave o the companie wis sae taen wi her at Herod said til the damie, “Seek oniething ye like o me, an I s’ gíe ye it”: deed, he swuir an aith at he wad gíe her oniething she socht o him, an it war een the ae hauf o his kíngdom!

Sae awà gaed the lassie an speired at her mither, “What will I seek o him?” An her mither said, “The heid o John the Baptízer.” Back the quean bickert tae the Kíng an said til him, “I want ye tae gíe me the heid o John the Baptist on an ashet, an I want it this mínit!”

Richt wae wis the Kíng tae hear her: but because o his aith, an for verra shame afore his guests, he dauredna gíe her a na-say, an strecht awà sent aff a lockman wi orders tae come back wi John’s heid. The man gaed awà an heidit John i the jyle an brocht in his heid on an ashet an gíed it til the lassie, an the lassie gíed it til her mither. Whan his disciples gat wittins o what hed happent, they cam an liftit the corp an laired it in a graff.

THE APOSTLES NOU cam back tae Jesus an tauld him about their teachin an ither wark. But whaur they war, they war keepit that thrang wi fowk comin an fowk gaein at they coudna sae muckle as faud a hoch an tak a diet. Sae he said til them, “Come ye awà tae some quait, out-o-the-gate spat whaur ye s’ be your lanes an can rest a whilie.”

Sae they gaed awà i the boat til an outlan bit tae be their lanes. But monie-ane ⁵⁷saw them gaein an kent them, an frae aa the touns thereawà fowk made til the place what they coud scour bi laund an wan til’t afore them. Sae, whan Jesus cam ashore, he faund a fell thrang forenent him. A stound o pítie gaed til his hairt tae see them staundin there like forwandert sheep, an he begoud tae teach them.

Whan it wis weirin late an him ey at the teachin, his disciples cam til him an said, “This is a gey lane bit, an it’s fell late; send the fowk awà, sae at they can ging tae the fairmtouns an clachans round about an coff themsels something tae ait.”

“Na,” said Jesus, “it’s ye maun gíe them something.”

“Ar we tae ging awà,” said they, “an coff a twa hunder merks’ wurth o breid an gíe them hit tae ait?”

“What feck o laifs hae ye?” qo Jesus. “Awà an see.”

Whan they hed fund hou monie they hed, they tauld him, “Five, an twa fishes forbye.”

Syne he baud the fowk sit doun in pairties on the green screiff, an they leaned them doun on the girss in pairties o fiftie an a hunder, luikin like sae monie raws o gairden plats. Syne he tuik the five laifs an the twa fishes an, raisin his een til heiven, axed a blissin an brak the laifs intil whangs, at he gae til his disciples tae haund tae the fowk; an the twa fishes he haufed the same gate amang them aa.

Ilkane gat his sairin o mait, an they liftit aff the grund efterhin twal creelfus o owrecome píeces o breid, forbye a feck o fishes.⁴ The haill nummer o men at hed a diet aff the laifs wis five thousand.

STRECHT AWA EFTER that Jesus gart his disciples ging abuird the boat an tauld them tae ging owre tae Bethsaïda afore him, while he himsel skailed the thrang.

Whan he hed bidden the fowk fareweill, he speiled the hill for tae pray, an gin the darknin the boat wis haufgates owre the Loch an him ey his lane on laund. Efter a while he saw at they war haein a sair fecht tae win forrit again a heidwind, an he cam til them, traivlin on the screiff o the watter. It wis nou the henmaist quarter o the nicht.

He wis a-weers o gaein by them, but they saw him traivlin on the watter an, jalousin it wis a ghaist, skirlt out; for they aa saw him, an war sair besturtit. But he spak til them at aince: “Binna scaured,” qo he: “it is een mysel; binna fleyed nane.”

Syne he sclam intil the boat aside them, an the wind lowned; an they war fair forbye themsels wi winder, for they wantit the wit tae lairn what the míracle o the laifs micht hae taucht them.

AT LANG AN lenth they wan tae laund at Gennesaret, whaur they tied up the boat an gaed ashore. Jesus wis kent strecht awà, an fowk scoured round the haill o that kintra an begoud bringin their síck til him on matrèsses, whauriver they hard at he wis; an in ilka clachan an toun an fairm at he cam til they set doun the ailin at the gateside⁵ an socht him tae lat them titch een the rund o his coat; an aa at sae did gat better o their ails.

7 AE DAY THE Pharisees an a wheen Doctors o the Law frae Jerusalem cam in about him, an whan they saw some o his disciples aitin their mait wi common (that is, onwuishen) haunds—aa the Jews, an, mairbitaiken, the Pharisees, winna ait wiout they hae first wuishen their haunds “wi the níeve”, as they say, conform til the hant haundit doun frae their forefaithers, nor they winna ait ocht whan they come frae the mercat, gin they haena first strinkelt themsels wi watter; an, deed, there is a gey curn ither hants at they hae it o their forefaithers tae keep, the like o rinzin bickers an jougs an capper bowls—a-weill, than, the Pharisees an Doctors speired at him, “What wey is it your disciples haudsna til the hants haundit doun frae our forefaithers, but aits their mait wi common haunds?”

Jesus answert, “Hýpocrítes at ye ar, richtlie did Isaiah prophesíe anent ye, i the bit whaur he says:

‘This fowk honours me frae the teeth outwith,

but their hairts is hyne awà frae me:

vain is the wurship they gíe me,

the lair at they teach

is but the commaundments o men.’

Ye heedna nae mair the commaunds o God, an grip til the hants haundit doun bi men!”

An this, tae, he said til them: “Bonnie wark, bonnie wark yours, settin aside what God commaunds, at ye may keep the hants haundit doun til ye! Moses said, ‘Honour thy faither an thy mither’, an, ‘Him at miscaas faither or mither, lat him be execute tae the deid’. But ye say, gin a man says, ‘What I wad helpit ye wi is qorbân’—that is, a ‘gift o God’—aince a man hes sayen that, ye dischairge him tae dae ocht for them, an sae cass an annull the Wurd o God wi the hants an tradítions ye hae heired an taucht til ithers. An monie mae siclike things ye dae.”

Aince mair he cried the thrang til him an said til them, “Hairken me, aa o ye, an uptak what I say: ⁵⁸nocht at gings intil a man frae ithout can fyle him.”

Whan he cam inbye awà frae the croud, his disciples speired at him anent his parable, an he said til them, “Ar ye as scant o wit as the lave? Can ye no see at naething at gaes intil a man can fyle him, sin it gingsna intil his hairt, but intil his wyme, an syne out intil the shoar?” Wi this wurd he declaired at aa kin o mait is clean.

“Na,” he gaed on, “it is what comes furth o a man fyles him; for it is frae ithin, frae the hairt, at aa ill thochts comes, an aa at they breed—⁵⁹hurin, theft, murther, adulterie, menseless greed, ill-daein, chaitrie, debosherie, invỳ, ill-speakin, pride, an fuilishness. Aa thir things comes frae ithin, an it is them fyles a man.”

EFTER THAT HE quat the pairt whaur he wis an gaed awà tae the kintra o Tyre, an stappit there in a houss somewey. He wissed naebodie tae ken he wis i the bit, but for him there wis nae bidin derned. Deed, it wis nae time or a wuman at hed a wee lassie wi an onclean spírit hard o him an cam an flang hersel at his feet—she wis a haithen o Sýrophoenícian bluid—an socht him tae cast the ill spírit out o her dachter.

“Lat the childer hae their sairin first,” said he til her; “it isna richt tae tak the bairns’ mait an gíe’d til the dowgs.”

“Ou ay, sir,” she answert: “but, still an on, the dowgs gits aitin muilins o the bairns’ breid ablò the table.”

“For that wurd ye hae spokken,” qo he til her, “ye may een gang your waas; the ill spírit hes gane out o your dachter.”

Sae awà the wuman gaed hame, an there she faund her lassie lyin quaitlie on her bed, an the ill spírit flittit.

EFTER THAT HE quat the kintra o Tyre again an fuir bi Sídon owre tae the Loch o Galilee an intil the mids o the Ten Touns’ kintra. There they brocht til him a tung-tackit deifie an socht him tae lay his haund on him.

Jesus tuik the man awà frae the croud his lane an stappit his fingers intil his lugs an pat a lick o his spittin on his tung, an syne, luikin up intil the lift, said til him wi an unco sech, “Ephphatha”, whilk is the Aramâic for “Be apent”. Wi that the man’s lugs wis apent, an the tack o his tung wis swackent, an he begoud speakin the same as ither fowk.

Jesus baud them say nocht o the maitter til onie-ane: but the mair he baud them, the mair eydentlie they trokit the news aa-wey an athort, an aabodie wis ondeemouslie dumfounert: “Braw an bonnie wark, aa this o his,” said they, “garrin een the deif hear an the dumb speak!”

8 A FELL THRANG hed gethert again about that time, an, as they hed nocht tae ait, Jesus cried his disciples til him an said til them, “Wae’s my hairt for the thrang: they hae bidden wi me three days nou an hae nocht left tae ait. Gin I send them awà clung tae their hames, they will swarf on the road; there’s o them bides a lang gate frae this.”

His disciples answert, “Whaur coud ye git the laifs tae stainch them here i the muirs?”

“What feck o laifs hae ye?” he speired.

“Seiven,” said they.

Sae he gíed the croud the wurd tae lean them doun on the girss. Syne he tuik the laifs an, efter thenks gíen tae God, brak them intil whangs, at he gae til his disciples tae haund tae the thrang; whilk they did. Forbye the laifs they hed a twa-three smaa fishes, an he axed a blissin owre them, tae, an tauld the disciples tae gíe them tae the thrang as weill. Ilkane gat his sairin o mait, an they liftit aff the grund efterhin seiven creelfus o orts.

Syne he skailed the thrang, whilk nummert about fowr thousand sauls, an gaed strecht an buirdit the boat wi his disciples an cam til Dalmanutha-side.

HERE THE PHARISEES cam out an begoud tae yoke wi him. Tae sey him, they socht o him a sign frae heiven. Jesus seched frae the fit o his hairt an said til them, “What gars this generâtion seek a sign? Atweill, I tell ye, the ne’er a sign will this generâtion be gíen.” Syne he quat them an, buirdin the boat aince mair, gaed owre til the ither side.

They hed forgot tae tak breid wi them—deed, they hed but ae laif on the boat; an whan Jesus warnished them an tauld them, “See an tent the barm o the Pharisees an the barm o Herod”—“What’s he ettlin at?” they speired at ither. “It maun be at our haein nae breid.”

Jesus kent what they war sayin an said til them, “What gars ye talk about haein nae breid? Div ye ey no understaund? Hae ye nae wit avà? Hae ye een, an seena? Hae ye lugs, an hearna? Div ye no mind hou monie creelfuls o orts ye liftit aff the grund, the time I brak the five laifs for the five thousand?”

“Ay, twal,” said they.

“An whan I brak the seiven laifs for the fowr thousand, hou monie scullfus o orts wis it ye liftit?”

“Seiven,” they answert.

“An div ye ey no understaund?” speired he.

SYNE THEY CAM til Bethsaïda, an there they brocht him a blinnd man an socht him tae pit his haunds on him. He grippit the man bi the haund an, takkin him out the clachan, spat on his een an laid his haund on him, syne speired at him, “See ye ocht?”

The man luikit up, an said, “Ay, I can see the fowk; I see them like as it wis trees traivlin about!”

Again Jesus laid his haund on his een, an the man glowred forenent him, an his sicht cam back til him, an he saw aathing plain an clair. Jesus than sent him strecht hame: “Gingna een intil the clachan,” qo he.

JESUS AN HIS disciples nou tuik the gate for the clachans about Caesarea Philippi, an on the road he speired at them, “Wha is the fowk sayin at I am?”

“John the Baptist,” they tauld him; “tho some says Elíjah, an ithers ane o the Prophets.”

“But ye,” he gaed on tae speir, “wha say ye at I am?”

Peter answert, “Ye ar the Christ.”

Jesus than stricklie forbaud them tae mint a wurd o it til onie-ane.

AN NOU HE begoud tae teach them at the Son o Man buid dree monie-thing an be rejeckit bi the Elders an Heid-Príests an Doctors o the Law, an be pitten tae deith, an syne rise again efter three days. Aa this he tauld them, speakin fair out an no gaein about the buss wi it.

Syne Peter drew him aside an begoud tae quarrel him, but Jesus whurlt round an, seein his disciples there, rebuikit Peter afore them aa: “Out my sicht, ye Sautan, ye! Thir thochts o yours isna God’s thochts, but men’s.”

Syne he cried the croud an his disciples til him an said til them, “Gin onie-ane is mindit tae come efter me, lat him forget himsel aathegither an tak his cross on his shuithers an gae my road wi me. Him at wad sauf his life will tyne it, an him at tynes his life for my sake an the Gospel’s will sauf it. What the better o’d is a man gin he gains the haill warld an losses his life an saul? What hes he in aa his aucht tae niffer for his saul? Him at is affrontit wi me an my wurds i this ill-gíen an sinfu generâtion, the Son o Man will be affrontit wi him, whan he comes i the glorie o his Faither wi his halie angels.”

9 This, tae, he said: “Atweill, I tell ye, there is them staundin here at winna pree deith afore they hae seen the Kíngdom o God estaiblished on the yird in pouer.”

SAX DAYS EFTER, Jesus tuik Peter an Jeames an John an gaed awà wi them, their lane sels, up a heich hill. There an unco cheinge cam owre the luik o him afore their een, an his claes becam, oh! sae clair an white—the plashmiller drawsna breith at coud mak claes as white an skinklin. Belyve Elíjah kythed tae them, an Moses wi him, an the twa o them wis speakin wi Jesus.

Syne Peter tuik speech in haund an said til Jesus, “What better coud we want nor this, Maister? We s’ bigg ye three bouers, ane for yoursel, ane for Moses, an ane for Elíjah!” He wis juist sayin the first thing at cam intil his heid; the man wis frichtit out o his wit, an the lave nae less.

Syne a cloud cam an cuist its shaidow owre them, an a voice spak out o the cloud: “This is my beluvit Son; hairken ye him.” They luikit round at aince, but there wis nae-ane tae be seen; onlie Jesus wis wi them.

As they cam doun aff the hill, he baud them no mint a wurd o what they hed seen til onie-ane or the Son o Man hed risen frae the deid. Sae they keepit the maitter til themsels, tho they discussed wi ilk ither what he meaned wi his “risin frae the deid”. Syne they speired at him, “Hou is it the Doctors o the Law says at Elíjah maun come first?”

“It is een sae,” he answert: “Elíjah comes first an richts aathing. But hou says the Buik at the Son o Man is tae dree monie-thing an be houtit an nochtifíed? A-weill, I tell ye this: Elíjah hes comed else, an they hae dune til him aa they hed a mind til, een as the Buik tells o him.”

WHAN THEY CAM back til the ither disciples, they faund them i the mids o a muckle thrang, an a curn Doctors o the Law threapin wi them. The croud wis fair stoundit tae see Jesus, an immedentlie aa ran forrit tae walcome him.

“What’s your threap about?” he speired at them.

A man i the croud gíed him his answer: “Maister,” said he, “I hae brocht my son til ye. He hes a tung-tackit spírit, an whaniver it grips haud o him, it dauds him on the grund, an he freiths at the mou an chirks his teeth, an syne he gaes aa steive an stark. I spak tae your disciples tae cast it out, but they coudna.”

“Oh, this generâtion at hes nae faith!” said Jesus til them. “Hou lang will I ey be wi ye? Hou lang maun I ey thole ye? Bring him til me.”

Sae they brocht the lad til him, an whaniver it saw Jesus, the spírit ⁶⁰twistit an twined the lad, an he fell tae the grund an rowed about faemin at the mou. Syne Jesus speired at his faither, “Hou lang time hes he been this gate?”

“Frae he wis a littlan,” said he; “an monitime it hes socht tae kill him an cuissen him intil the fire or intil watter. But gin ye can dae ocht, tak pítie on us an help us!”

“ ‘Can’?” qo Jesus. “Hae faith, an ye can dae aathing.”

“I hae faith,” the callan’s faither cried out: “help ye my want o it!”

Syne, seein at mair an mair fowk wis fest getherin round them, Jesus challenged the onclean spírit: “Deif an dumb spírit,” qo he, “come ye out o the lad, I, Jesus, commaund ye, an ne’er ging intil him mair.”

At that the spírit loot a loud skraich an, efter ruggin an rivin him sair, cam out o him. The loun lay there like a corp: deed, the maist feck o the fowk said he wis awà. But Jesus grippit him bi the haund, an wi his help the lad wan up on his feet.

Whan he wis inbye again, an they war their lanes, his disciples speired at him, “What wey wis it we coudna pit out the spírit?”

He answert, “This kind canna be pitten out bi onie mean but prayer.”

EFTER THIS THEY quat the pairt whaur they war, an fuir throu Galilee. Jesus wissed naebodie tae ken, because he wis nou teachin his disciples.

The Son o Man, he wis ey tellin them, wis tae be gíen up intil the haunds o men, an they wad pit him tae deith, an three days efter his deith he wad rise again. But they understuidna what he meaned, an dauredna queystin him anent it.

Sae they cam tae Capernaüm, an there, whan they war inbye, he speired at them, “What wis your threap on the road about?” But nocht said they, for they hed been threapin on the road about whilk o them wis the grytest.

Than he leaned him doun an, cryin the Twal til him, said til them, “Gin a man wad hae the first place, he maun tak the henmaist place o aa an be the servan o aa.” Syne he tuik a bairn an set him i the mids o them an, takkin him intil his oxter, said til them, “Onie-ane at walcomes a bairn sic as this i my name walcomes me, an him at walcomes me walcomes no me alane, but him at sent me.”

John said til him, “We saw a man at gingsna wi us castin out ill spírits in your name, an we socht tae hender him, because he gingsna wi us.”

“Hender-him-na,” qo Jesus; “nae-ane at wurks míracles in my name will can ging strecht an speak ill o me. Him at isna again us is for us. Gin onie-ane gíes ye a tass o watter because ye ar Christ’s, atweill, I tell ye, he s’ no gae wantin his rewaird. But gin onie-ane gars ane o thir hummle belíevers stammer an faa in sin, it wad be tellin him, gin he war cuissen intil the Loch wi a millstane about his craig. Gin your haund gars ye faa in sin, sneg it aff; it is better ye suid ging intil life wantin a limb nor hae baith haunds an ging til hell an the onslockenable fire. Gin your fit gars ye faa in sin, sneg it aff; it is better ye suid ging intil life cripple nor hae baith feet an be cuissen intil hell. Gin your ee gars ye faa in sin, rive it out; it is better ye suid ging intil the Kíngdom o God ae-ee’d nor hae baith een an be cuissen intil hell, whaur their wurm ne’er díes, an the fire is ne’er slockent. Ilkane will be sautit wi fire.

“A braw thing is saut: but gin it gaes wairsh, what will ye mak it sautie again wi? Ye maun hae saut in yoursels an líve in paice wi ilk ither.”

10 JESUS NOU TUIK the gate frae Galilee an gaed intil the kintra o Judaea an the pairts be-east the Jordan. Aince mair thrangs o fowk gethert about him, an he taucht them, as he wunt tae dae. Belyve a wheen Pharisees cam up an, seekin tae fankle him, speired him gin it wis leisome for a man tae divorce his wife.

Jesus answert wi the queystin, “What laid Moses doun in his Law for ye?”

“Moses gíed a man freedom tae divorce his wife,” said they, “bi the mean o a dismissal in write.”

“Weill kent he the dour, thrawn hairts o ye,” qo Jesus, “an it wis for that at he gíed ye that líshence in his law-buik. But frae God first made the warld, man an wuman made he them. For that a man will forleit his faither an his mither an haud til his wife, an the twasome will become ae flesh. Man an wife isna twa onie mair than, they ar but ae flesh; an what God hes joined thegither man maunna pit sindrie.”

Back inbye, the disciples speired him faurer on this maitter, an he said til them, “Onie man at divorces his wife wrangs her, an commits adulterie, gin he mairries anither wuman; an gin the wuman divorces her husband an mairries anither man, she commits adulterie.”

AE DAY SOME fowk brocht forrit their bairns for Jesus tae pit his haunds on them. The disciples begoud tae quarrel them, but whan Jesus saw them, he wis gey an ill-pleised, an said til them, “Lat the bairns come tae me, seekna tae hender them; it is een sic as them at the Kíngdom o God belangs. Atweill, I tell ye, nae-ane at walcomesna the Kíngdom o God like a bairn will e’er win intil’d.”

Syne he tuik the littlans in his oxter an pat his haunds on them an gae them his blissin.

HE WIS SETTIN tae the gate aince mair, whan a man cam rinnin up an, gaein doun on his knees afore him, speired at him, “Guid Maister, what maun I dae tae win iverlestin life?”

Jesus said til him, “What for caa ye me ‘guid’? Nae-ane is guid, binna God alane. Ye ken the commaunds: ‘Thou sanna commit murther; Thou sanna stael; Thou sanna beir fauss witness; Thou sanna haud nae man out o his ain; Honour thy faither an thy mither’.”

The man answert, “Maister, I hae keepit aa thir commaunds frae I wis a bairn.”

Jesus glowert at him, an he tuik a hairt-likin for him. “Ae thing ye ey want,” qo he: “gang your waas, sell aa ye ar aucht, an gíe the siller tae the puir—it will be an outly for ye i the Bank o Heiven; syne heast ye back an ging my gate wi me.” At thir wurds the man hang his heid an gaed awà unco wae, for he hed rowth o warld’s gear.

Syne Jesus luikit round his disciples an said til them, “Hou ill will them at hes walth hae winnin intil the Kíngdom o God!”

They ferliet tae hear him say that. But Jesus cam back on it. “Bairns,” qo he, “hou ill it is winnin intil the Kíngdom o God! A caumel will shuner gae throu the ee o a needle nor a rich man win intil the Kíngdom o God.”

At that the disciples wis stoundit out o aa meisur, an said til ither, “Syne wha can be saufed?”

Jesus luikit them braid i the face an said, “It is abuin the pouer o man, but no the pouer o God: God can faa aathing.”

Peter bluitert out, “But what o hiz? We hae gíen up aathing an comed alang wi ye!”

“Atweill, I tell ye,” qo Jesus, “there is nae-ane hes gíen up hame or brithers or sisters or mither or faither or childer or fairm an fíelds for my sake an the Gospel’s but will git a hunder times as muckle nou i the praisent warld, be it housses or brithers or sisters or mithers or childer or fairms an fíelds, athò no wiout persecution, an i the warld tae come iverlestin life. Monie at is first eenou will be henmaist, afore aa’s dune, an the henmaist will be first.”

THEY WAR NOU on the road gaein doun tae Jerusalem, wi Jesus traivlin aheid o them his lane. The disciples wis ferliein sair, an the lave at fallowt him wis fu o fear. Aince mair he cried the Twal til him an begoud tae tell them what wis bidin him.

“Luik ye,” qo he, “we ar gaein doun tae Jerusalem eenou, an there the Son o Man will be gíen up tae the Heid-Príests an the Doctors o the Law, an they will condemn him tae deith an haund him owre til the haithen, an the haithen will geck him an spit on him an leash him an kill him; an syne efter three days he will rise again.”

AE DAY JEAMES an John, the twa sons o Zebedee, cam up til him an said, “We hae a fauvour tae seek o ye, Maister.”

“What is it ye wad hae me dae?” qo he.

“We want ye tae lat us sit aside ye,” they answert, “the tane on your richt haund an the tither on your left haund, on your day o glorie.”

“Ye kenna what ye ar seekin,” Jesus answert. “Can ye drink the tass at I maun drink an dree the baptism at I maun dree?”

“Ay, can we,” said they.

“Atweill will ye drink the tass at I maun drink,” qo Jesus, “an dree the baptism at I maun dree: but saits on my richt haund an saits on my left haund isna mine tae gíe; they will hae them at it hes been ordeined is tae hae them.”

Whan they hard o this, the ither ten disciples wis mis-set wi Jeames an John. Sae Jesus cried them til him an said, “Ye ken hou them they caa rulers amang the haithen lairds it owre the fowk, an their gryte men ey lats them ken at they ar their maisters. But that maunna be the gate o’d wi ye. Onie-ane at wad be gryte amang ye maun be your servan, an onie-ane at wad be the first amang ye maun be the slave o aa. For een the Son o Man camna tae be saired, but tae sair, an tae gíe his life as a ransom for monie.”

EFTER THAT THEY cam tae Jericho, an as Jesus an his disciples wis gaein out the toun, an a gey thrang o fowk wi them, Timaeus’s son, BarTimaeus, a blinnd thigger, wis sittin at the gateside.

Whan he hard it wis Jesus o Nazareth, he begoud tae skirl out, “Jesus, Son o Dauvit, tak pítie on’s!” Monie o the fowk cowed him an tauld him tae haud his wheesht. But he skirlt out muckle the mair, “Son o Dauvit, tak pítie on’s!”

Jesus stappit an said, “Cry him here.”

Sae they cried the blinnd man: “Tak hairt an staund up,” said they til him; “he’s cryin ye!” Wi that he aff wi his coat an laup til his feet an cam up til Jesus.

“What is it ye wad hae me dae?” speired Jesus.

“Your Honour,” the man answert, “I’d fain hae my sicht again.”

“Gang your waas,” qo Jesus; “your faith hes gíen ye back your sicht.” An strecht the man saw again, an he gaed alang the gate efter Jesus.

11 WHAN THEY WAR comin naur Jerusalem, an hed gotten the lenth o Bethphagie an Bethanie an the Hill o Olives, Jesus sent twa o his disciples on an eerant: “Gae tae yon clachan owrebye. Richt at the in-gaun ye’ll finnd a cowt tethert at nae man hes e’er ridden; lowse him an bring him here. Gin oniebodie speirs at ye, ‘What ar ye daein there?’, tell him at the Maister’s needin him an is tae send him back belyve.” Sae awà they gaed an faund a cowt tethert outside a door i the street an begoud lowsin it.

“What ar ye daein lowsin the cowt?” some staunders-by axed them. They gíed them the answer Jesus hed tauld them tae gíe, an the men gae them nae mair fash.

Sae they brocht the cowt tae Jesus an laid their coats on its back, an he muntit it. Monie o the fowk spreidit their coats on the road, an ithers strawed it wi ryss they hed cuttit i the fíelds; an afore an ahent him, as he gaed alang, they war aa cryin, “Hosanna! Blissins on him at comes i the name o the Lord! Blissins on the comin Kíngdom o our Faither Dauvit! Hosanna i the hicht o heiven!”

Whan he cam tae Jerusalem, he gaed intil the Temple an luikit round at aathing there; syne, as it wis weirin late, he quat the toun an gaed wi the Twal tae Bethanie.

NEIST MORNIN, WHAN they war on their road tae Jerusalem, Jesus begoud tae finnd yaup; an, seein a feg-tree a gey gate aff in leaf, he gaed forrit, howpin tae finnd some frute on it. But whan he wan up tae the bit, he faund nocht but leafs; an, deed, it wis owre air i the year for fegs.

Syne he said tae the tree, an the disciples hard him say the wurds, “May nae man iver again ait frute aff ye!”

WHAN THEY HED gotten back tae Jerusalem, Jesus gaed intil the Temple an begoud tae cast out them at coft an trokit intil it. He whummelt the tables o the nifferers o siller an the cheyrs o the dou-cowpers, an he lootna onie-ane ging throu the place wi a luim or a veshel cairriein.

Syne he spak tae the fowk: “Is it no written i the Bible,” qo he, “ ‘My houss will be caa’d a houss o prayer for aa the fowks o the yird’? But ye hae made it a rubbers’ howff.”

The Heid-Príests an Doctors o the Law gat wittins o this, an they cuist about for some wey tae git redd o him; for they war feared for him, because the haill fowk wis cairriet awà bi his teachin.

Whan the eenin cam, Jesus gaed out o the toun.

AS THEY GAED alang the road bytimes neist mornin, they saw the feg-tree, an it wis aa geizent, ruit an ryss. Mindin o the day afore, Peter said tae Jesus, “Luik, Maister, the feg-tree at ye banned is aa geizent!”

“Hae faith in God,” qo Jesus tae them aa. “Atweill, I tell ye, gin onie-ane says tae thon hill, ‘Up wi ye an cast yoursel intil the sea’, an misdouts nane in his hairt, but weill belíeves at what he says will happen, he will een hae his will. Sae I tell ye this: aathing ye seek in prayer, belíeve ye hae gotten it, an ye will een hae it.

“An whan ye staund prayin, forgíe onie wrang at onie-ane may hae dune ye, sae at your Faither in heiven may forgíe ye your ain fauts.”

THEY CAM BACK again tae Jerusalem, an as Jesus wis traivlin back an fore i the Temple, the Heid-Príests, Doctors o the Law, an Elders cam up til him an said til him, “Whattan authoritie hae ye for daein the thíngs ye ar daein? Wha gíed ye the richt tae dae them?”

Jesus said til them, “I will speir ye ae queystin, an gin ye answer it, I will een tell ye what authoritie I hae: John’s baptism—wis it frae heiven, or cam it o men? Answer me that.”

They cuist owre his queystin i their minds an said til ither, “Gin we say, ‘Frae heiven’, syne he will speir, ‘What for did ye no belíeve him, than?’ But ar we tae say, ‘It cam o men’?”—na, they war owre feared for the fowk tae say that; for ane an aa they huid at John wis a prophet, an nae twa weys about it. Sae they said til him, “We canna say.”

“A-weill,” qo Jesus, “I winna tell ye what authoritie I hae for daein what I dae aitherins.”

12 SYNE HE BEGOUD tae speak til them in parables. “A man,” qo he, “plantit a vine-yaird, dykit it round about, howkit a troch, biggit a touer, set the place til a wheen gairdners, an syne fuir awà out o the pairt. At grape-hairst time he sent a servan tae uplift the skair o the crap at his tenants wis awin him, but they grippit hauds o him an loundert him an sent him awà tuim-haundit. Syne he sent anither servan til them, but they cruntit his heid til him an ill-gydit him shamefullie. Yit anither servan he sent til them, but this ane they felled; an een sae wi monie mae—some they loundert, an ithers they felled. He hed ey ane left tae send, his nain dear son; an he sent him, the henmaist o aa, til them. ‘They’ll respeck my son,’ thocht he til himsel. But thae gairdners said til ilk ither, ‘This is the heir; c’wà, lat’s fell him, an the haudin will be our ain.’ Sae they grippit him an felled him an flang his corp outen the vine-yaird.

“Nou, what will the laird o the vine-yaird dae? He will come an kill the gairdners an set the vine-yaird til ithers. Hae ye no read the bit i the Bible whaur it says:

The stane at the biggars cuist aside,

hit is een become the cunyie:

this is the Lord’s wark,

an a ferlie it is in our een?”

They wad fain laid haunds on him, for they weill saw at he wis ettlin at themsels wi his parable. But they war frichtit for the fowk, sae they loot him abee an gaed their waas.

EFTERHIN SOME PHARISEES an Herodians wis sent tae girn him wi a queystin. Thir men cam up an said til him, “Maister, we ken at ye ar an aivendoun man at heedsna ither fowk’s ruise or wyte; for ye carena by wha a man is, but trulie an honestlie teach the wey o God. Tell us nou, is it leisome tae pey the poll-tax tae Caesar, or is it no? What say ye? Ar we tae pey it, or no?”

Jesus saw the doubleness o them an said, “What for seek ye tae fankle me? Fesh a merk, an gíe me a luik o it.” Sae they brocht him a merk, an he said til them, “Wha’s heid an name is thir?”

“Caesar’s,” said they.

“A-weill, than,” qo he, “pey Caesar what belangs Caesar, an pey God what belangs God.” They war fair stoundit at him.

AE DAY SOME SADDUCEES (fowk at threaps there is nae risin again efter deith) cam an speired him a queystin.

“Maister,” said they, “Moses laid it doun in our Law at, gin a man díes laein a wídow but nae childer, his brither suid mairrie his wídow an beget a faimlie til him.

“A-weill, the’ war aince seiven brithers. The auldest o them mairriet a wife an díed laein nae childer; syne the saicond brither mairriet his wídow, an he díed bairnless an aa; it wis the same gate wi the third; an sae it fuir on or the haill seiven o them hed díed, an nae childer left ahent them; an syne, lest o aa, the wuman díed hersel. At the resurrection, than, whan they ar risen again, wha’s wife will she be, seein hou the haill seiven wis mairriet on her?”

Jesus answert them, “Isna this hou ye gae wrang—at ye kenna naither the Bible nor the pouer o God? Whan the deid is risen again, there is nae mair mairriein for man or wuman, they ar like the angels in heiven. As for the risin-up o the deid, hae ye ne’er read i the Buik o Moses, i the bit anent the ⁶¹bríar-buss, hou God said til him, ‘I am the God o Abraham an the God o Isaac an the God o Jaucob’? God is nae God o deid men, but a God o men in life. Atweill ye ar freelie wrang!”

A Doctor o the Law at hed hairkent this threap an seen hou weill he answert his queystiners nou cam forrit an speired at him, “Whilk is the first commaund o aa?”

Jesus said til him, “The first commaund is this: ‘Hairken, Israel: the Lord thy God is the onlie Lord; an thou sal luve the Lord thy God wi thy haill hairt an thy haill saul an aa thy wit an aa thy pith.’ The saicond is this: ‘Thou sal luve thy neipour as thysel.’ There is nae ither commaund gryter nor thir twa.”

The Doctor o the Law answert, “Weill an trulie said, Maister: there is but ae God, an nae ither forbye him, an tae luve him wi aa your hairt an aa your understaundin an aa your pith is a hantle better nor aa the brunt offerins an saicrifíces i the warld.”

Seein hou wysslike he answert, Jesus said til him, “Ye arna faur frae the Kíngdom o God.” Efter that nae man daured speir him onie mair queystins.

ANITHER TIME, AS he wis teachin i the Temple, Jesus said, “Hou can the Doctors o the Law up-haud at the Christ is the Son o Dauvit? Dauvit himsel, speakin i the Halie Spírit, said:

The Lord said til my lord:

‘Sit thou at my richt haund,

till I pit thy faes aneth thy feet.’

Dauvit himsel caas him his lord: hou can he be his son avà?”

The maist feck lissent him gledlie. Amang ither things at he said in his teachin o them the’ war this: “Tak tent o the Doctors o the Law,” qo he, “at is fain o brankin on the plainstanes in side gouns, an canna dae wantin becks an bous i the mercat, an is ey ill for the best saits i the sýnagogue an the foremaist places at denners an banqets. Them at hings on a lang face an pits up lang screids o prayer an aa the time is rookin wídows out o their haudins, stick an stow, it will be⁶ the waur for them at the Juidgement, at will it!”

AE DAY HE wis sittin foregainst the Temple Treisurie, tentin the fowk as they cuist their coins intil the offerin-kists. Efter monie weill-tae-pass fowk hed cuissen in a gey feck o siller píeces, a puir wídow cam forrit an drappit in twa fardens.⁶²

Seein her, Jesus cried his disciples til him an said til them, “Atweill, I tell ye, yon puir wídow-wuman hes pitten mair intil the kist nor aa the lave. They aa gíed out o their owrecome, but she out o her need hes gíen aa she wis aucht—ay, the haill o her fendin!”

13 AS HE WIS ginging out the Temple, ane o the disciples said til him, “Luik, Maister! Whattan stanes! Whattan biggins!”

Jesus answert, “Ye see thir muckle biggins? No ae stane o them will be left abuin anither; the hailwar s’ be dung doun an disannulled.”

Syne, as he wis sittin his lane on the Hill o Olives, forenent the Temple, Peter cam up wi Jeames an John an Andro an speired at him: “Tell us,” qo he, “whan is thir things tae happen? What sign will be gíen whan they ar aa a-weers o comin tae pass?”

Jesus tuik speech in haund an said til them: “Tak tent at nae man mislairs ye. Monie feck will kythe caain themsels bi my name an threapin, ‘I am the Christ’, an monie-ane will they gar gae will. Whan ye hear tell o wars an souchs o war, binna nane pitten about. Thir things maun een happen, but the end will be ey tae come. First will fowk mak war on fowk, an kinrick on kinrick. There will be yirdquauks in orra pairts, there will be faimins, but thir is nae mair an the oncome o the birth-thraws.

“But ye maun luik til yoursels. Ye will be haundit owre tae councils an loundert wi wands in sýnagogues: mairfortaiken, ye will hae tae compear afore governors an kíngs for my sake, tae gíe them your testimonie; for afore the end the Gospel maun first be preached in aa launds. Whan they harl ye afore courts an juidges, fashna yoursels aforehaund for what ye ar tae say: say ye een what is gíen ye tae say whan ye ar staundin there, for it winna be ye at speaks, but the Halie Spírit.

“Brither will betray brither tae deith, an faithers their bairns, an childer will rise up again their paurents an cause pit them tae deith. Ye will be hatit bi aa men, because ye beir my name: but him at staunds steive tae the end will be saufed. But, whaniver ye see the Deidlie Scunner staundin whaur staund it suidna”—ye at reads this, tak tent!—“syne them at bides in Judaea maun tak the hills wi speed; him at is on his houss-heid maunna come doun an gae ben tae lift ocht frae the houss, an him at is outbye i the fíeld maunna ging back tae claucht up his coat. ⁶³Pítie help the wuman wi babe i the wyme an the wuman wi bairn at the breist i thae days! Pray tae God at this comesna in winter; for thae days will be days o dule an wae at there hesna been the like o frae God first made the warld till nou, nor winna be again i the time tae come. Troth, gin God hedna shortent thae days, no a bodie-kind wad win throu wi his life. But for the sake o the eleck at he hes waled for his ain he hes shortent them.

“Gin onie-ane says tae ye at that time, ‘Luik, here’s the Christ’, or, ‘See, there he’s thonder’, lippen-him-na. For fauss Christs an fauss prophets will kythe, an will wurk míracles an ferlies tae gar the eleck gae will, coud sic a thing be. But tak ye tent: I hae tauld ye aathing aforehaund. I thae days, whan the dule an wae is by wi,

The sun will be mirkit,

an the muin winna gíe her licht;

the stairns will be faain frae the carrie,

an the pouers i the lift will be dinnelt.

Than will they see the Son o Man comin i the clouds wi unco micht an glore, an belyve he will send furth his angels an gether his eleck frae the fowr airts, frae the laichmaist bound o the yird tae the buinmaist bound o heiven.

“Lat the feg-tree lairn ye a lesson. Whan its ryss is sappie an saft, an its leafs onfaulds,⁷ ye ken at the simmer is naur. Siclike, whan ye see thir things happnin, ye maun ken at the end is naur—ay, at your verra doors! Atweill, I tell ye, this generâtion winna pass awà or aa thir things hes happent. The lift an the yird will pass awà, but my wurds they winna pass awà nane. But the day an the hour whan thae things will be nae-ane kens, no een the angels in heiven, nor the Son himsel, but the Faither alane. Be ye tentie an haud ye wauken, for ye kenna whan the time is tae come. It is as gin a man hes gane furth o hame an kintra, lippnin his houss tae the chairge o his servans. Ilkane o them hes been gíen his nain wark tae dae, an the janitor’s orders is no tae steik an ee, but be waukrif. Siclike ye maun be waukrif, for ye kenna whan the Maister will be back—i the gloamin or the howe o the nicht, the smaa hours or the dawin: gin no, he will aiblins cast up o a suddentie an finnd ye sleepin. What I say tae ye, I say til aa: be waukrif!”

14 IT WANTIT BUT twa days or the Passowre an the Feast o Barmless Breid, an the Heid-Príests an Doctors o the Law wis castin owre hou they micht git their haunds on Jesus bi some prat an pit him tae deith. “But no throu the Feast,” said they, “or we’r like tae hae the fowk raisin a stramash!”

Ae day, whan he wis lyin at the buird i the houss o Símon the Lipper at Bethanie, a wuman cam in wi a stowp o dairthfu uilie o rael nard in her haund an, brakkin aff the tap o the stowp, tuimed the uilie owre his heid.

Some o them at wis there wis sair ill-pleised an said til ither, “What for’s this waistrie o guid nard? It micht hae been sauld for three hunder white shillins an mair, an the siller gíen tae the puir!” Syne they turned an yokit on the wuman.

But Jesus said, “Lat her abee; what cause hae ye tae fash her? It wis braw an weill dune o her, this at she hes dune for me. The puir ye hae ey wi ye, an ye can dae them kindness whaniver ye will, but me ye s’ no hae ey wi ye. She hes dune aa at wis in her pouer tae dae; she hes anointit my bodie for my buiral afore the day. Atweill, I tell ye, whauriver the Gospel is preached i the haill warld her storie will be tauld, sae as she s’ ne’er be forgot.”

Syne Judas Iscariot, ane o the Twal, gaed awà til the ⁶⁴Heid-Príests tae offer tae betray him intil their haunds. Whan he tauld them what he hed comed for, they war fair liftit up an shored him a soum o siller, an he begoud tae luik out for a guid opportunitie o betrayin him.

ON THE FIRST day o the Feast, whan the Jews wis in yuiss tae fell the Passowre Lamb, the disciples speired at Jesus whaur it wis his will they suid ging an mak fore-redd for him tae ait his Passowre. Sae he sent aff twa o them wi thir orders: “Ging intil the toun,” he tauld them, “an there ye’ll forgether wi a man wi a watter-kit cairriein. Fallow him; an whan he gaes intil a houss, say til the guidman o the same, ‘The Maister baud us ax ye whaur is the chaumer trystit for him an his disciples tae ait the Passowre in.’ The man will tak ye up the stair an shaw ye a muckle chaumer wi couches weill spreid up, an aathing in order.⁸ That is whaur ye ar tae mak fore-redd for us.” Sae the twasome tuik the gate an cam intil the toun, whaur they faund aathing as Jesus hed tauld them; an they made reddie for the Passowre.

Whan it wis weirin late, Jesus cam til the place wi the Twal. As they lay at the buird takkin their sipper, he said, “Atweill, I tell ye, ane o ye is tae betray me, ane o ye at is here at the buird wi me.”

Dule war they tae hear him, an they said til him, ane efter anither, “No me, shairlie?”

“It is ane o the Twal,” qo he, “ane at is dippin his píece i the bicker wi me. The Son o Man maun een gae the gate at Scriptur foretells for him: but waesucks for the man at is tae betray him! Better wad it been for that man, gin he hed ne’er been born.”

Whan they war ey at the buird, Jesus tuik a laif an, efter he hed axed a blissin, brak it an gíed it til them, sayin, “Tak ye this, it is my bodie.”

Syne he tuik a caup, gae thenks tae God, an raxed it til them, an ilkane o them drank frae it, an he said til them, “This is my Bluid o the Covenant, whilk is skailed for monie. Atweill, I tell ye, I winna lip the bree o the grape again or the day tae come whan I drink a new wine i the Kíngdom o God.”

WHAN THEY HED sung the Passowre Psaum, they gaed out an awà til the Hill o Olives. Belyve Jesus said tae them, “Ye will aa turn fauss an faithless, for it is written in Scriptur:

‘I will ding the herd,

an the hirsel will be sparpelt abreid.’

But efter I hae risen frae the deid, I will ging on afore ye tae Galilee.”

Peter said til him, “Lat ithers be fauss an faithless, Peter will ey haud leal an true!”

Jesus answert, “Atweill, I tell ye, nae later nor this day’s nicht, or the cock craws twice, ye will disavou me thrice.”

But Peter threapit the mair, “Tho I buid díe wi ye, I winna dis avou ye nane, at winna I!” An siclike said the haill o them.

Syne they cam til a dail caa’d Gethsemanè, an he said til his disciples, “Sit ye here, till I ging an pray.”

Sae they bade there, but he gaed on wi Peter an Jeames an John. An nou an unco dridder cam owre him, an he said til them, “My saul is likin tae díe for wae; bide ye here an haud ye wauken.”

Syne he gaed forrit a bittock an cuist himsel on the grund an prayed at, gin it coud be, the hour o dree micht ging by him. “Abba, Faither,” he prayed, “nocht is abuin thy pouer, ⁶⁵hain me this caup: yit no as my will, but as thy will, is.”

Syne he cam back an faund them asleep, an he said til Peter, “Asleep, Símon, asleep? Docht-ye-na bide waukin ae hour? Bide ye aa waukin, an haud at the prayin, at ye haena tae dree nae sair seyal. Tho the spírit be ⁶⁶freck, the flesh is ⁶⁷feckless.”

Again he gaed awà an prayed the same prayer as afore. Syne he cam back aince mair an faund them asleep, for their een wis hivvie wi tire; an they kentna what answer tae gíe him.

Yit a third time he cam back, an nou he said til them, “Ey sleepin? Ey takkin your rest? Lang eneuch hae ye sleepit. The hour is comed: see, the Son o Man is eenou tae be betrayed intil the haunds o sinners! Rise ye up, an lat us gae meet them: ay, here he comes, my betrayer.”

The wurds wisna aff his tung afore Judas – ane o the Twal! – cam up, an wi him a thrang o fowk airmed wi whingers an rungs, at hed been sent bi the Heid-Príests, Doctors o the Law, an Elders. The traitor hed gree’d a taiken wi them: “Him at I kiss is the man ye’r seekin,” he hed sayen: “grip him, an tak him awà under siccar gaird.” Sae, nou he wis at the bit, he gaed strecht up til him an caa’d him “Maister” an kissed him; an than the ithers laid haunds on him an huid him siccar.

Ane o the staunders-by drew his whinger an lent the Heid-Príest’s servan a straik at sneddit aff his lug. Jesus than tuik speech in haund: “Am I some reiver,” qo he, “at ye needs come out wi whingers an rungs for tae fang me? Day an dailie I wis in amang ye teachin i the Temple, an ye laidna a haund on me. But Scriptur buid be fulfilled, I trew.”

Syne the haill o his disciples forhoued him an scoured awà. The’ war ae callan, tho, at ey huid efter Jesus. He wis cled in nocht but a linnen hap, an they claucht hauds o him. But he wan lowse o their grips, an awà he ran scuddie-bare, laein his hap i their haunds.

SYNE THEY CAIRRIET Jesus awà til the pailace o the Heid-Príest, whaur the haill o the Heid-Príests an Doctors o the Law an Elders convened. Peter fallowt him a lang gate ahent richt intil the pailace yaird, whaur he sat doun amang the servitors an beikit himsel at the ingle.

I the meantime the Heid-Príests an the haill Council wis seekin evidence on whilk they coud pit Jesus tae deith, but coudna finnd onie; for, tho monie-ane buir witness again him, their witness wis fauss, an their líes didna een compluther. Syne the’ war some stuid up an buir fauss witness again him, sayin at hou they themsels hed hard him say, “I will ding doun this Temple at haund o man biggit, an in three days’ time I will raise up anither temple, biggit bi nae man’s haund.” But no een thir witnesses’ deposítions compluthert.

Syne the Heid-Príest rase frae his sait an, comin forrit intil the bodie o the court, speired at Jesus, “Answer ye nocht? What mak ye o this witness again ye?” But the ne’er a wurd spak he.

The Heid-Príest than pit anither queystin til him: “Ar ye the Christ,” said he, “the Son o the Blissit Ane?”

“I am,” qo Jesus, “an, mairfortaiken, ye will see the Son o Man

sittin on the richt haund o God Almichtie

an comin amang the clouds o the lift.”

Wi that the Heid-Príest rave his goun an said, “What needs we seek mair witness? Ye hae hard his blasphemie yoursels: what, than, is your juidgement?”

Ane an aa they juidged him giltie o a capital crime. Syne some fell tae spittin on him, an they blinfauldit him an lent him ey the tither gowff, cryin at ilka flewit: “Spae awà nou, Prophet!” An the servitors, tae, lent him monie a clink athort the haffits.

AA THIS WHILE, Peter wis doun ablò i the yaird. As he wis sittin there beikin himsel at the fire, ane o the Heid-Príest’s servan-queans cam in an, seein him, tuik a guid luik o him an said, “Ye war wi the man frae Nazareth, this Jesus, tae, I’m thinkin.”

But he wadna own wi it: “I kenna buff nor sty what ye’r speakin o,” said he; an wi that he slippit out intil the ⁶⁸fore-close.

The servan-lass saw him there an said tae the staunders-by, “This chíel’s ane o them”: but aince mair he denied it.

Belyve the staunders-by cam back til it an said tae Peter: “Deed, but ye ar sae ane o them; ye’r frae Galilee!”

At that he set tae the bannin an swuir at he kentna “this man,” says he, “at ye’r speakin o.” Nae shuner wis the wurds ⁶⁹out o his mou nor the cock crew the saicond time. Than Peter caa’d tae mind hou Jesus hed sayen til him, “Afore the cock craw twice, ye will disavou me thrice.” An he banged out⁹ an fell agreitin.

15 STRECHT AWA AT the first styme o daylicht the haill Council—Heid-Príests, Elders, an Doctors o the Law—tuik counsel thegither, efter whilk they caused binnd Jesus an cairriet him awà an haundit him owre tae Pílate.

“Prísoner at the bar, ar ye the King o Jews?” Pílate speired at him; an Jesus answert, “Ye hae said it.”

Syne the Heid-Príests cam forrit wi monie chairges again him, an Pílate speired at him aince mair, “Hae ye nocht avà tae say? Luik what monie chairges they hae again ye!” But Jesus wadna answer mae, sae at Pílate ferliet.

Ilka Passowre Pílate wis in yuiss tae set free onie ae prísoner at the fowk socht o him. Nou, at this time the man caa’d BarAbbas wis lyin in waird alang wi the reibels at hed committit murther i the Risin. Sae the croud gaed up tae Pílate an begoud tae seek o him what he wis in yuiss tae dae for them, an Pílate speired at them, “Is it your will I suid líberate the Kíng o Jews for ye?” Weill kent he at it wis for ill-will the Heid-Príests hed brocht Jesus up afore him. But the Heid-Príests eggit up the croud tae seek him tae lowse BarAbbas raither.

“Syne what will I dae,” answert Pílate again, “wi him ye caa Kíng o Jews?”

“Tae the cross wi him!” raired they again.

“But what ill hes he dune?” speired Pílate.

“Tae the cross wi him! Tae the cross wi him!” wis aa the answer he gat.

Nou, Pílate wis laith tae conter the croud, sae he loot them hae their will an set BarAbbas at líbertie: Jesus he caused screinge an haundit owre tae the sodgers tae be crucifíed. Sae the sodgers cairriet him awà intil the Court, or Governor’s Pailace, an whan they hed gethert the haill regiment in about, they reikit him out in purpie an crouned him wi a wreathe they hed plettit o thorn rysses. Syne they begoud tae hailse him wi “Hail, Kíng o Jews!” an they gaed on tae yether him owre the heid wi a wand an spat on him an kneeled on the grund afore him in fenyiet homage. An than, whan they war throu wi their jamphin-wark, they ⁷⁰tirred the purpie aff him an cled him again in his ain claes.