Tuesday 13 February 2018

Mass readings in Scots: Ash Wednesday

First reading
Joel 2:12-18

The Lord sais thir thingis:
Be ye conuertit to me in al your hart
in fasting, and weping, and wailing.
And kerue ye your hartis, and nocht your claathis,
and be ye conuertit to our Lord God;
for he is benigne and merciful,
padent and of mekile mercy,
and abidand (or forgevand) on malice.
Quha wate gif God be conuertit, and foigeue,
and lefe blessing eftir him,
sacrifice and moist sacrifice
to our Lord God?
Sing ye with trumpet in Sion,
halow ye fasting,
and call ye cumpany.
Gader ye togiddir the pepile,
halow ye the kirk,
gader ye togiddir aldmen,
gader ye togiddir litil childir,
and souking the breestis;
a spouse ga out of his bed,
and a spouses of hir chalmir.
Preestis, the mynistris of the Lord,
sal wepe betuix the porche and the altare,
and sal say,
'Lord, spare thou, spare thi pepile;
and geue thou nocht thin heretage into confusioun,
that nationnis be lordis of thame.
Quhy say thai amang pepilis,
"Quhare is the God of thame?" '
The Lord luvit jalouslie his land,
and sparit his pepile.

[From The New Testament in Scots Murdoch Nisbet [c.1520] (1905) vol 3 here]

Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 50: 3-6, 12-14, 17

Misere mei Deus

Haif mercy on me, God of mycht,
Of mercy Lord and King:
For thy mercy is set full rycht
Abufe all eirdlie thing.
Thairfoir I cry baith day and nycht,
And with my hart sall sing:
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Haif mercy on me, O gude Lord,
Efter thy greit mercie: 
My sinfull lyfe dois me remord,
Quhilk sair hes greuit thé:
Bot thy greit grace hes me restord,
Throuch Christ to libertie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Et secundum multitudinem.

Gude Lord I knaw my wickitnes,
Contrair to thy command;
Rebelland ay with cruelnes,
And led me in ane band
To Sathan, quha is mercyles,
Zit, Lord, heir me cryand.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Quhat tung can tell the multitude,
Lord, of thy greit mercie.
Sen sinnaris hes thy Celsitude
Resistit cruellie.
Zit na sinnar will thow seclude.
That this will cry to thé,
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Amplius laua me. 

Thow wusche me Lord quhen I was borne,
From all my wickitnes; 
Bot zit I did, throw sin, forlorne
Of heuin the rychteousnes.
Wesche me againe, and from thy home
Deliuer me in stres:
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
And fra my sin thow mak me clene,
As thow maid Dauid King:
With Peter, Paull, and Magdalene,
Quha now dois with the Regne 
In heuinlie Joy, fair and amene;
And I sail with thame sing.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Quoniam iniquitatem.

Full weill I knaw my wickitnes,
And Sin contrarious:
Blasphemit lies thy gentilnes,
With sin maist dangerous,
And hes me led in heuynes,
Zit, O God, maist gracious,
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
I grant my sinfull lyfe did use.
In Sensualitie;
Zit thow gude Lord will nane refuse
That will cum vnto thé.
Heirfoir I scharply me accuse,
Cryand for thy mercie:
   To thy mercie with thé will I go.

Tibi soli peccaui.

Onlie to thé I did offend
And mekle euill lies done;
Throw quhilk, appeirandlie defence
To me is nane bone:
Thus men will Juge, thy Just vengeance
Hes put me fra thy throne:
Zit to thy mercy with thé will I go.
Thocht thow, gude Lord, be Jugeit thus,
Full fals and wrangouslie :
O God, sa gude and gracious,
Lat thair Jugeing vencust be,
And schaw thy mercy plenteous,
Quhilk mot vs Justifie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

[Ecce enim in iniquitatibus]

Consauit in to sin I am,
My wickitnes thocht thow behald,
Quhilk I contractit of Adame,
Sinnand rycht mony fald:
My Mother als did eik the same,
And I to sin was sald.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Bot zit the Lord omnipotent.
My cairfull case did cure;
At Font quhen I was impotent,
Fragile, vaine, vylde, and pure.
Than helpit me that King Potent,
In my misauenture.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Ecce enim veritatem.

Behald thow luififis treuth, gude Lord,
Thow art the veritie :
This weill thy promeis can record,
Quhair thow dois it schaw to me,
The hid things of thy godly word,
That war vnsure to me.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Thow hecht to Abraham anone
Isack his eldest Sone :
Thow promeist als that Salomone,
Suld bruke King Dauidis throne.
To sinnaris als that callis the one,
Grace cumis from abone.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Asperges me.

With Isope Lord thow strinkill me,
And than I sall be clene
And clenar than maid sall I be,
Than euer snaw hes bene,
Zit of my clenes thy mercy
The rute is euer sene.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
This Isope is humilitie,
Rycht law in till assence;
The snaw sa quhyte in all degre,
Betakinis Innocence.
For and thir twa do gouerne me,
I sall do nane offence.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Auditui meo dabis.

Than Ioy and Myrth thow sail me geue,
Thy mercy quhen I heir:
My banis law thow sail releue,
And be my scheild and speir :
Thy sword also rycht soir sall greue,
My Ennemeis with feir.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
My hope and traist hes bene to lang
In mennis fals supplie,
Quhairfoir I grant, I haif done wrang,
Nocht hopeand help of thé.
Bot now with steidfast Faith I gang,
Unto thy Maiestie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Auerte faciem tuam.

Fra my Sinnis aduert thy face,
My wickitnes expell :
Sen I haif hopit in thy grace,
Thow saue me from the hell,
Thy mercy is set in sicker place,
Na sinnar can repell.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
The theif that hang on the rycht hand,
And sufferit with the deide:
In the last hour thy mercy fand
For sin the haill remeid :
Siclyke, gude Lord, heir me cryand.
And help me in my neid.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Cor mundum.

Thow creat in me, O God, ane hart
Baith clene and Innocent;
And lat me nocht from thé depart,
My God Omnipotent.
Sen vnto thé I schaw my smart, 
Rycht pure and indigent :
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Renew me with thy haly Spreit,
To help my febilnes: 
My teiris sall my cheikis weit,
For my greit sinfulnes.
Bot thow, gude Lord, my confort sweit,
Expell my wickitnes.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Ne proiicias me.

O gude Lord, cast me nocht away
From thy perfite presence:
Sen that I grant my sinnis ay,
Hes done thé greit offence.
And I sail pryse baith nycht and day,
Thy greit magnificence.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Tak nocht fra 'me thy godlie Spreit
In my aduersitie:
For till my Saull it is full sweit,
Quhen sin besettis me.
And thow sall mak my Saull full meit,
Unto thy Maiestie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Redde mihi.

Gif me the blyithnes and the blis
Of my sweit Sauiour:
For throw his bitter deide I mis
Of hell the dyntis dour.
And, in this mortall lyfe, he is
My Strang defence and tour.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Conforme thy Spreit, maist principall,
In to me throw thy grace:
For sin rycht lang held me in thrall,
And put me from thy face.
Zit vnto the my Lord I call,
In to my heuie case.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Docebo iniquos.

Then I sail teiche the wickit men.
Thy wayis Iust and rycht:
And thay that did the lang misken.
Sall knaw the God of Mycht.
Quhen thay sail ryse furth of the den,
Of sin, and cum to lycht.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
The sinfull than to thé reuart,
Sall in to gudlie haist;
And rew thair sinnis with thair hart,
And thair auld lyfe detest,
And to thame, Lord, thow sall conuart,
Quhen thay thy mercy taist;
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Libera me.

Deliuer me from blude schedding,
For blude betakinnis Sin: 
For punischement I serue conding,
Zit efter thé I rin :
Grant me that I may with thé Regne,
And at thy port get in.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Than sall my tung thy rychteousnes
Extoll, and Magnifie:
Quhen gaine is my greit sinfulnes,
And greit Iniquitie.
God for thy grace and gentilnes,
Grant me thy greit mercy.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

[Domine labia mea.]

My lippis Lord than louse thow sall,
Quhilk closit lang haif bene:
From thy louing sair bound in thrall,
Brekand thy sweit biddene,
And keip me from ane suddand fall,
For greit paine I sustene.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
And than my mouth sall do furth schaw
Thy louing glorious;
And I sall cause all sinnaris knaw
Thy mycht sa meruellous.
And fra thyne furth sail keip thy Law
Quhilk is sa precious.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Quoniam si voluisses.

Gif thé had plesit sacrifice
I suld thame offerit thé.
Bot thow will nocht sic auarice,
For thow art wounder fré,
And geuis vs thy benefitis,
Throw Christis blude frelie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Brint Sacrifice is na delyte
Unto thy Maiestie :
Thow curis nocht of it ane myte,
For sin to satisfie :
For onlie Christ did mak vs quyte
Of all Innormitie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Sacrificium Deo.

Ane Sacrifice to thé plesand 
Is ane sweit humill hart.
Unto the quhilk, I understand,
Thow dois thé haill conuert.
Thairfoir, gude Lord, lat thy command,
Na way fra mé depart.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Ane contryte hart do not dispyse,
God, for thy greit mercy:
Sen for thy grace, sa oft, it cryis,
For succour and supplie.
And it sall thank ane thousand syse.
Thy godly Maiestie.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Benigne fac Domine.

To Syone, Lord, be gude againe,
Efter thy godly will:
And lat thy louing thair remaine,
Thy promeis to fulfill.
For Mont Syone, with greit disdane,
In thrall is hiddertill.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Jerusalem did get ane fall,
Hir wallis war maid full law :
For scho miskennit the God of all,
And daylie brak his law :
Bot thow sall put hir out of thrall,
Quhen scho hir God dois knaw.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

Tunc acceptabis.

Than Sacrifice thow sall accept,
Of treuth and rychteounes:
Conforming to thy trew precept,
And to thy gentilnes.
For na man than sall thow except.
In to thair neid and stres.
  To thy mercy with thé will I go.
Than Calfis and brint Sacrifice
Thy Aulter sall repleit.
Than greitar gloir and benefice,
Thow sail mak for vs meit,
Quhair day and nycht we sail not ceas
Ay singand Sanctus sweit.
   To thy mercy with thé will I go.

[Complete paraphrase from The Gude and Godlie Ballatis [1567] John Wedderburn et al., Alexander Ferrier (ed.) (1897) pp.119-129  here]

Second reading
2 Corinthians 5:20-6:2

Sae we ar Christ's ambassadors, an we speak wi the voice o God whan we caa tae men, "I the name o Christ, we beseek ye, be reconciled wi God." Him at wis sinless God made tae be sin for us, at we micht in him become the richteousness o God. As pairtners in God's wark, we prig wi ye no tae lat the grace ye hae gotten o him nae effeck. Hear his ain wurd:

          'I the walcome hour o acceppance
              I tentit thy cry;
           on the day o salvâtion
              I cam tae thy help.'

Nou, nou I tell ye, is the walcome hour o acceppance, nou is the day o salvâtion!

[From The New Testament in Scots (2012), translated by W. L. Lorimer, Canongate Classics, ISBN 978 0 85786 285 3, Amazon UK here, Amazon US here.

Gospel reading
Matthew 6:1-6,16-18

Tak' tent that ye dinna your aumis afore men, to be seen o’ them; itherwaise ye hae nae reward o’ your Father wha is in heaven. Therefore whan thou doest thine aumis, dinna toot a trumpet afore thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues an’ in the throwgangs, that they may hae glory o’ men. Verily I say unto you, They hae their reward. But whan thou doest thine aumis, letna thy left han’ ken what thy richt han’ doeth: that thine aumis may be in secret; an’ thy Father wha seeth in secret, himsel sall reward thee openly.

An’ whan thou prayest, thou salltna be as the hypocrites are; for they loe to pray stan’in’ in the synagogues an’ in the neuks o’ the throwgangs, that they may be seen o’ men. Verily I say unto you, they hae their reward. But thou, whan thou prayest, gae intil thy closet, an’ whan thou hast steeket thy door, pray til thy Father wha is in secret; an’ thy Father, wha seeth in secret, sall reward thee openly.

Mairowrere whan ye fast, binna as the hypocrites, o’ a dowie leuk, for they disfigure their faces that they may kythe until men to fast. Verily I say unto you, they hae their reward. But then, whan thou fastest, aneynt thy head, an’ wash thy face: that thou dinna kythe until men to fast, but until thy Father wha is in secret; an’ thy Father, wha seeth in secret, sall reward thee openly.

[From The Gospel of St. Matthew, Translated Into Lowland Scotch, by George Henderson (1862) here]

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