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
