“An sae nou I’m sendin amang ye prophets an wyss men an men o lair. Some o them ye’ll kill an crucifíe, an ithers ye’ll leash in your meetin-housses an hund frae toun tae toun, sae at on ye may faa the gilt o aa the sakeless bluid e’er skailed on the yird, frae the bluid o sakeless Abel tae the bluid o Zecharíah, the son o Barachíah, at ye felled atweesh the Temple an the altar. Atweill, I tell ye, this generâtion will mak mends for aa thae ill deeds!
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, at kills the Prophets an stanes them at is sent til her, hou aft wad I fain hae gethert your bairns about me, as a hen gethers her brodmil aneth her wíngs, but ye, ye wadna lat me! See, nou is your houss forhoued;3 for I tell ye, frae this time forrit ye s’ see me nae mair or the day whan ye say, ‘Blissit is him at comes i the name o the Lord’!”
24 JESUS NOU QUAT the Temple; an, as he gaed alang, the disciples cam up an baud him luik up at the Temple biggins.
“Ye see aa that?” qo he. “Atweill, I tell ye, no ae stane o them aa will be left abuin anither: the haill Temple will be but a rickle.”
Efterhin, whan he wis sittin his lane on the Hill o Olives, the disciples cam up an said til him, “Whan is thae things tae be? An whattan taiken will we hae at your back-comin an the hinnerend o the praisent warld is naurhaund?”
Jesus answert, “Tak tent at nae man leads ye agley! For monie-ane will kythe, takkin my name an threapin, ‘I am the Christ’; an monie feck they will lead agley. Ye will hear tell o wars an souchs o war, but be ye nane flichtert. Siccan things maun een be, but that isna the end. For fowk will mak war on fowk, an kinrick on kinrick; an faimins there will be an yirdquauks in orra pairts. Aa thae things is but the onfaa o the birth-thraws.
“Than will they haund ye owre tae them at will sair ill-gyde ye an kill ye, an in ilka laund ye will be hatit because ye beir my name. Monie will tyne their faith i thae days an betray ilk ither for hate. Monie fauss prophets will kythe an lead monie agley, an wi the wickitness lairge in ilka place the luve o the maist feck will grow cauld. But him at hauds out till the end will be saufed. Mairatowre, this Gospel o the Kíngdom will first be preached out-throu the haill warld an made kent til the haithen aagate, an syne the end will come.
“Whan, therefore, ye see the Deidlie Ugsome Thing at the Prophet Daniel spak o staundin i the Halie Place”—ye at reads this, tak tent!—“them at wons in Judaea maun tak the hills. Him at is up on his houss-heid maunna gae doun intil the houss tae lift his gear, an him at is afíeld maunna gang back hame tae fesh his coat. Wae’s me for weimen at is big wi bairn or gíein souk i thae days! Pray at your flicht faasna in wintertime, or on the Sabbath, for the dule an dree o that time will be sic as there hesna been the like o frae the beginnin o the warld till nou, nor nivermair will be. Gin thae days hedna been shortent, nae-ane avà wad be left tae the fore: but shortent they will be for the sake o the Eleck. Gin onie-ane says tae ye than, ‘Luik, here’s the Christ’, or, ‘See, yonder’s the Christ’, lippen-him-na. For monie fauss Christs an fauss prophets will kythe an wurk míracles an ferlies tae gar een the Eleck gae will, coud sic a thing be. Mind, nou, I hae wairned ye! Gin they say tae ye than, ‘He’s thereout i the muirs’, gang-ye-na furth; or gin they tell ye, ‘He’s ben the houss in ane o the chaumers’, lippen-them-na. For as the fireflaucht lowps leamin athort the lift frae the aist tae the wast, een sae will be the comin o the Son o Man. Whaur the carcage liggs, thair the vulturs forgethers.
“As shune as thae days o dule an dree is by,
The sun will be mirkit,
an the muin winna gíe her licht;
the stairns will faa frae the carrie,
an the pouers i the lift will be dinnelt.
Than will the sign o the Son o Man kythe i the lift, an aa the clans o the yird will murn an baet their breists; an they will see the Son o Man comin on the clouds o the lift wi unco micht an glore. Wi a dunnerin blast o the horn he will send furth his angels; an they will gether his Eleck frae the fowr airts, frae the tae end o the lift tae the tither.
“Tak a lesson o the feg-tree. Whan its ryss grows sappie an saft, an the leafs onfaulds, ye ken at the simmer is naur. Siclike, whan ye see aa 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 winna pass awà. But the day an the hour nae-ane kens, no een the angels in heiven, nor the Son: na, nane but the Faither alane!
“At the comin o the Son o Man it will be the same wey as it wis i the days o Noah. I thae days afore the Fluid fowk wis thrang aitin an drinkin, mairriein an gíein in mairrage, richt up tae the time whan Noah gaed intil the Airk; an naething jaloused they, or the Fluid cam an soopit them aa awà. That is the wey it will be at the comin o the Son o Man. Twa men will be wurkin thegither i the fíeld—ane o them will be taen, an the tither left ahent; twa weimen will be caain a haundmill thegither—ane o them will be taen, an the tither left ahent. Haud ye ey wauken, than, for ye kenna what day your Maister is comin. But o this ye may be shair: gin the guidman hed kent at what hour o the nicht the thíef wis tae come, he wad hae bidden waukin, an no latten his houss be brakken intil. Sae ye, tae, maun ey be reddie, sin the Son o Man will come at an hour whan ye’r bodin him nane.
“Wha’s the wysslike an faithfu servan at his maister lippent wi the owrance o the lave, an seein at they war maitit raiglar? Happie man, at his maister, whan he comes hame, finnds daein the wark he wis gíen tae dae! He’ll gíe him the gydin o aa he is aucht, I s’ warran ye. But gin he is an ill-set bleck, yon servan, an says til himsel, ‘He’s lang o comin, the Maister’, an faas tae lounderin the ither servans an gilravagin wi the dribblin-core, syne, on a day he bodesna, an at an hour he kensna, the maister o that servan will come hame, an will hag him in píeces an assign him his dail wi the hýpocrítes; an it is there at the yaumer an the chirkin o teeth will be!
25 “Here is whatlike it will be wi the Kíngdom o Heiven, whan that day comes. The’ wis aince ten deames gaed out tae meet the bridegroom an the bride at a waddin, takkin their bouets wi them. Five o them wis glaikit lassies, an five wis wysslike queyns. The glaikit anes tuik their bouets, but they tuik nae orra oil wi them: but the wysslike anes tuik baith their bouets an oil-pouries forbyes.
“The bridegroom wis lang o comin, an the lassies aa dovert an fell owre. At midnicht the cry wis raised: ‘Here’s the bridegroom; come out an meet him!’ The din waukent the lassies, an they rase an fettelt up their bouets.
“The glaikit anes said tae the wyss anes, ‘Lat see a twa-three draps oil: our bouets is gaein out!’
“ ‘Nae fears!’ the wyss anes answert. ‘We haena what wad sair ye an hiz baith belike. Better gae tae the chops an buy yoursels some.’ Sae aff they gaed tae buy their oil.
“I the mids o the meantime the bridegroom cam, an the lassies at wis reddie gaed inbye wi him tae the waddin-brakfast, an the door wis steikit. A whilie efter, the ither lassies cam an begoud cryin, ‘Pleise, sir, apen the door til us!’ But he answert, ‘Atweill, I hae nae kennin o ye avà!’ Haud ye ey wauken, than; for ye ken naither the day nor the hour.
“Or again, it is like this. A man at wis gaein out o the kintra caa’d up his servans an haundit his haudin owre tae them tae gyde. He lippent ane wi five talents, anither wi twa, an a third wi ane—ilkane wi the soum confeirin til his capacitie. Syne he gaed his waas out o the kintra. The man at hed gotten the five talents gaed strecht awà an yuised them sae weill in tredd
