raxed out his haund an laid it on him an said, “I hae the will: be ye haill an clean”; an strecht the lipper wis redd o his ill an fylement.
Syne Jesus said til him, “Mind an tell naebodie: gang ye, tho, an shaw yoursel til the príest an offer the gift ordeined bi Moses, at the warld may hae pruif o your betterness.”
WHAN HE HED come intil Capernaüm, a Centurion cam up an socht his help: “Sir,” said he, “my servan hes haen a straik; he’s lyin intil his bed, owrebye at my houss, terrible sair taen.”
“I will come an richt him,” qo Jesus.
“Ill wad it set the like o me, sir, tae hae ye comin intil my howff,” said the Centurion: “say but the wurd, an my servan will be better. Tak mysel, sir: forbye them at gíes me orders, I hae sodgers under me, an I say til ane, ‘Gae yont’, an he gaes; an til anither, ‘Come here’, an he comes; an tae my servan, ‘Dae this, or that’, an he dis it.”
Jesus ferliet tae hear him, an he said tae them at wis wi him, “Atweill, I tell ye, no een in Israel hae I fund siccan faith! Monie, I tell ye, will come frae the aist an the wast an lie doun at the buird wi Abraham an Isaac an Jaucob i the Kíngdom o Heiven, an the born heirs o the Kíngdom will be cuissen furth intil the outmaist mirk; an it’s there at the yaumer an the chirkin o teeth will be!”
Syne he said til the Centurion, “Gang your waas; it will een be as ye hae lippent.” An i that same maument his servan wis better.
EFTERHIN HE GAED til Peter’s houss, whaur he faund Peter’s guid-mither lyin intil her bed wi the fivver. He grippit her haund, an the fivver quat her; an she rase frae her bed an saw efter his mait an aa.
Syne, whan it wis faur i the day, they brocht til him monie at wis trauchelt wi ill spírits, an he drave out the ill spírits an hailed aa them at wis oniegate no weill. Een sae buid he dae, at the wurd spokken bi the mouth o the Prophet Isaiah micht be fufilled:
He tuik on himsel our ills
an buir our sícknesses.
SEEIN WHAT A fowk wis about him, Jesus gae the wurd tae gang owre til the ither side o the Loch. Afore they war awà, a Doctor o the Law cam up til him an said, “Maister, I will fallow ye, whauriver ye ar gaein.”
“The tods hes their bouries,” answert Jesus, “an the birds o the lift their bíelds: but the Son o Man hes naewey tae lay his heid.”
Anither o the disciples said til him, “Lat me gang hame first an yird my faither.”
“Fallow me,” qo Jesus; “an lat the deid een yird their deid.”
SYNE JESUS GAED on tae the boat, an his disciples cam abuird efter him. On a suddentie a fell storm rase the loch, an the jaws cam jow-jowin owre the boat. But Jesus ey sleepit.
Sae they cam an waukent him an said til him, “Sauf us, Maister, we’r likin tae be drouned!”
But Jesus said til them, “What maks ye sic couarts? What hes come owre your faith?” Syne he stuid up an bostit the winds an the watter; an aa fell lown an still.
They aa ferliet an said, “Whattan kin o man is this, at een wind an watter dis his biddins?”
WHAN HE HED laundit on the ither side i the Gadarene kintra, he met in wi twa men wi ill spírits, at wis comin out frae the graffs—a twasome sae fell an fairce at nae man daured gang that gate. Strecht they yelloched out, “What want ye wi hiz, ye Son o God? Ar ye come here tae pyne us afore our time?”
Nou, a gey gate aff there wis a muckle herd o swine feedin; an the spírits socht him, gin he wis tae cast them out, tae send them intil the herd o swine. “Awà wi ye,” qo Jesus; an they cam out o the men an gaed intil the swine; an, swith, the haill herd breinged awà doun the stey braeface intil the loch an perished in its watters.
At that the herds at wis tentin the swine tuik leg frae the bit an screived awà til the toun, whaur they tauld the storie o the men wi the ill spírits, an aa the lave o it. An belyve the haill fowk cam out frae the toun tae meet Jesus; an whan they saw him, they socht him tae quat their bounds.
9 JESUS THAN BUIRDIT a boat an gaed atowre the Loch an cam til his ain toun. Belyve they brocht him a blastit man lyin on a bed; an, seein their faith, he said tae the man, “Tak hairt, my son; your sins is forgíen.” At that a wheen Doctors o the Law at wis by said til themsels, “It is aivendoun blasphemie, that!”
Jesus kent what they war thinkin intil themsels an said tae them, “What wey hae ye sic ill thochts in your hairts? Whilk o the twa things is the aisiest—tae say, ‘Your sins is forgíen’, or tae say, ‘Staund up, an traivel about’? But, tae lat ye ken at the Son o Man hes the richt on the yird tae forgíe sins—Staund up,” says he til the blastit man: “tak up your bed, an gang your waas hame.”
The man stuid up, an gaed awà hame; an the croud wis fleyed tae see him rise an gang, an ruised God for gíein men sic pouers.
AS HE GAED yont the gate frae there, he saw a man caa’d Matthew sittin at his dask i the Towbuid, an he said til him, “Fallow me”; an he rase an fallowt him.
Efterhin he wis i the houss, lyin at the buird, an belyve a guid wheen tax-uplifters an siclike outlans cam ben an lay doun aside Jesus an his disciples. Whan the Pharisees saw it, they said til his disciples, “What for taks your Maister his mait wi tax-uplifters an siclike outlans?”
Jesus heared them an said, “It isna the haill an fere hes need o the doctor, but the síck an dwinin. Awà ye an lairn the meanin o the wurd, ‘Mercie I wad hae, an no saicrifíce’! I haena come tae invíte the weill-lívin, but outlans an ill-daers.”
AE DAY JOHN’S disciples cam til him an said, “What wey is it at hiz an the Pharisees fasts, an your disciples fastsna?”
Jesus answert, “As lang as the bridegroom is wi them, the waddiners canna be dowff an wae, canna they no? But the day is tae come whan the bridegroom will be taen awà frae them, an than they will fast. Nae man shews a clout cuttit frae an onwaukit wab on til an auld dud; an he dis, the platch rugs awà at the auld dud, an the affcome is a waur rive. Naither is noo wine filled intil auld wine-skins; an it is, the skins splíts, an the wine is skailed an the skins massauckert. Fy, na: noo wine is filled intil noo wine-skins, an syne baith wine an skins is hained.”
EEN AS HE spak, up cam a 36meetin-houss convener an, beckin fu laich, said til him, “My dachter hes juist díed: but come, sir, an lay your haund on her, an she s’ líve again.”
Sae Jesus rase an fallowt him, an his disciples gaed wi them. They war ey on the road whan a wuman at hed haen a rin o bluid a twal year comes up an titches the rund o his coat: “Gin I can but titch the coat o him,” thocht she til hersel, “I’ll get better.” But Jesus turned about an saw her: “Tak hairt, my dachter,” qo he; “your faith hes made ye weill.” An, deed, i that same maument the wuman wis better.
Whan he wan til the 37Convener’s hame, an faund the saulies there, an the houss fu o fowk an din an stír,1 “Awà out o this!” qo he. “The lassock isna deid, she’s sleepin.” 38They onlie leuch at him. But whan the fowk hed been pitten out o the houss, he gaed ben an grippit the lassie bi the haund, an she rase up. An belyve the souch o this gaed outowre the haill o that pairt.
AS
