Sunday 2 August 2020

Mass readings in Scots: Eighteenth Sunday of the Year (Year A)

First reading
Isaiah 55:1-2

[Sae quo' the Lord:]
Hy! A' that's sair tholin wi' drowthe,
an' wha has nae siller till gie; come yer wa's till the watirs o' truth;
come yer wa's, ye can buy an' pree;
aye, come, ye can buy wi' nae siller;
wine an' milk, an' wi' never a fee.
What-for fling ye siller awa, an' no for bread?
the feck o' yer fash an' a', for a fusionless screed?
Ye suld hearken an' hear till myself, syne guid ye suld pree;
an' e'en as in walth o' talch, yer heart it suld swee.
Rax roun' yer lug, an' come a' till myself;
hearken, an' syne yer heart it sal live:
an I'se tryst yo the tryst was trystit langsyne;
the goodwill o' David, was ay sae stieve.

[From Isaiah frae Hebrew intil Scottis, by P. Hately Waddell 1879 (Amazon US here; Amazon UK here)  Google books here]

Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 144: 8-9, 15-18 (resp. v.16)

[Ye braid yer loof, O Lord, an' toom aneugh,
o' yer gudeness, till a' on live.] 

Kind an' pitifu' ay is the Lord;
lang or he lowes; and rews right fain:
Gude's the Lord till aforby; 
an' his pitie, atowre his warks ilk ane. 

[Ye braid yer loof, O Lord, an' toom aneugh,
o' yer gudeness, till a' on live.] 

The een o' the lave leuk a' till thee,
an' ye gie them bread belyve:
Braidin yer loof, an' toomin aneugh,
o' yer gudeness, till a' on live.

[Ye braid yer loof, O Lord, an' toom aneugh,
o' yer gudeness, till a' on live.]

Right is the Lord in ilk gate o' his ain, 
an' kindly in a' that his han' does: 
Nieborlie ay is the Lord, till a' wha cry on himsel; 
till a' wha cry on himsel, right heartilie. 

[Ye braid yer loof, O Lord, an' toom aneugh,
o' yer gudeness, till a' on live.]

[From Psalm 145 in The Psalms: frae Hebrew intil Scottis P. Hately Waddell (1891) here]

Second reading
Romans 8: 35, 37-39

Fa will separate hiz fae e luv o  Christ? Trauchle? Chauve? Tiraneesin? Hunnger? Nyaakitness? Mischaunce? Roch hannlin? Na, yet, in aa things we win ower, throw him fa looed hiz. 

Cause A'm perswaaded att neither daith, nor life, nor angels, nor cuntras o e warl, nor pooers, nor fit happens e day, nor fit happens e morn, nor fit's abeen, nor fit's aneth nor ony ither thing in God's warl will haud hiz fae e luv o God, throw Christ Jesus, wir Lord.

[From The Doric New Testament (2012), rendered in Doric by Gordon M. Hay, published by G. M. Hay, Longside, ISBN 978-0-9573515-0-9, author's website Amazon UK here Amazon US here ]

Gospel reading
Matthew 14: 13-21

Whan Jesus heard o’ [the deæth o John the Babtist], he gaed awa frae ther bie schip, intill ane desert plece bie himsel’; an’ whan the peeple had heard thero’, they folloet him on fit out o’ the cities. An’ Jesus gaed furth, an’ saw ane grit multitud, an’ was amovet wi’ tendir wae to waird them, an’ he hælet their siek.

An’ whan it was eenin’, his discipels cam’ til him, sayin’, "This is ane desart plece, an’ the time is now gane bye ; sen’ the multitud awa, that they may gae intill the clauchans an’ coffe themsels vittels." But Jesus said untill them, "They needna gang awa: gie ye them til eet." An’ they say untill him, "We hae here but five laives an’ twa fishes." He said, "Bring them hidder til me." An’ he commandet the multitud til sit doun on the gerse, an’ tuik the five laives an’ the twa fishes, an’ luikin’ up til heæven, he blisset, an’ brak, an’ gae the laives til his discipels, an’ the discipels til the multitud. An’ they did eet, an’ wer satisfiet: an’ they tuik up o’ the fragments that wer left twal baskits fu’.An’ they that had eeten wer about five thousan’ men, forbye women an’ childer.

[From The Gospel of St. Matthew in Lowland Scotch, from the English Authorised Version. By H. S. Riddell (1856) here]

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