Saturday 22 July 2017

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

First reading
Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19

For thare is nae ither god but you, that hae care o aw,
sae as ye maun shaw ye dinna gie juidgement unjuistlie.
For yeir pouer is the beginnin o juistice:
an sith ye ir laird o aw, ye mak yeirsel gracious til aw.
For ye shaw yeir pouer, whan men winna trew ye ti be absolute i power,
an ye insense the gallusness o thaim that dinna ken ye.
But ye bein maister o pouer, juidge wi tranquillitie;
an wi gret favour dispose o us:
for yeir pouer is at haund whan ye wul.
But ye hae taucht yeir fowk bi sic warks,
that thai maun be juist an couthie,
an hae made yeir bairns ti be o a guid howp: a
sith i juidgin ye mak scowth for repentance for sins.

[Own translation. Level 2 18/07/20. Methodology here]

Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 85: 5-6, 9-10, 15-16 (resp. v.5)

For thou, Lord, art guid, an' readie till forgie.

For thou, Lord, art guid, an' readie till forgie;
an' routh in mercie untill a' thaime that ca' apon thee.
Gie eær, O Lord, untill my præyer;
an' tak' tent til the voyce o' my supplicationes.

For thou, Lord, art guid, an' readie till forgie.

A' nationes wham thou hest mæde sall cum an' bowe doun afore thee,
O Lord, an' sall glorifie thy næme.
For thou art grit, an' deth wunderfu' things;
thou art God alane.

For thou, Lord, art guid, an' readie till forgie.

But thou, O Lord, art ane God fu' o' tendir pitie, an' gracious,
an' waynesum in mercie an' trouth.
O turn untill me, an' hae mercie apon me.

For thou, Lord, art guid, an' readie till forgie.

[From Psalm 86 in The Book of Psalms in Lowland Scots Henry Scott Riddell (1857) here]

Second reading
Romans 8: 26-27

I the same wye, e Speerit helps wir wykeness; cause we dinna ken foo tae pray richt gait, bit e Speerit inno hiz is prayin for hiz in grains att we canna pit in tae wirds. An God, fa sees in till wir herts, kens fit e Speerit means, cause he pleads for God's fowk in God's ain wye.

[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 13: 24-43

Anither parable pat he furth untill them, sayin’, "The kingdoom o’ heæven is likenet untill ane man whilk sawet guid seed in his field. But while he sleepet, his enemy cam’ an’ sawet tares amang the wheet, an’ gaed his waye. But whan the braird was sprung up an’ broucht furth frut, than kythet the tares alsua. Sae the servents o’ the houshaulder cam’ an’ said untill him, 'Sir, didestna thou saw guid seed in thy field? frae whance than heth it tares?' He said untill them, 'Ane enemy heth dune this.' The servents said untill him, 'Wult thou than that we gae an’ gether them up?' But he said, 'Na, in kase while ye gether up the tares, ye rute up alsua the wheet wi’ them. Let baith growe thegither until the hairst; an’ in the time o’ the hairst I wull say, til the sheerers, Gether ye thegither first the tares, an’ bin’ them in bunches til burn them: but gether the wheet intill my bern.'"

Anither parable pat he furth untill them, sayin’, "The kingdoom o’ heæven is like til ane grain o’ mustart-seed, whilk ane man tuik an’ sawet in his field; whilk trewlie is the littlest o’ a’ seeds, but whan it is grown it is the gritest amang yirbs, an’ turns out ane trie, sae that the burds o’ the air come an’ ludge in the branches o’t."

Anither parable spak he untill them: "The kingdoom o’ heæven is like untill leæven whilk ane woman tuik an’ hade in three measurs o’ meal, till the haill was leævenet."

А’ thae things spak Jesus untill the multitud in parables; an’ bot ane parable spakna he untill them: that it micht be fufillet whilk was spokin bie the prophet:

     I wull open my mooth in parables;
     I wull utter things whilk hae been keepet secreit frae the fundation o’ the warld.

Than Jesus sendet the multitud awa an’ gaed intill the hous: an’ his discipels cam’ untill him, sayin’, "Mak’ plane untill us the parable o’ the tares o’ the field." He answiret an’ said untill them, "He that sawith the guid seed is the Son o’ man; the field is the wаrld; the guid seed ar the childer o’ the kingdoom; but the tares ar the childer o’ the wicket ane; the enemy that sawet them is the deevil; the hairst is the en’ o’ the wаrld; an’ the sheerers ar the angils. As therfor the tares ar’ getheret an’ brunt in the fire, sae sall it be in the en’ o’ the warld. The Son o’ man sall sen’ furth his angils, an’ they sall gether out o’ his kingdoom a’ things that offen’, an’ them that do inequitie; an sall cast them intill ane furnace o’fire: ther sall be greetin’ an’ nashin’ o’ teeth. Than sall the richtious shine furth as the sun in the kingdoom o’ the Faether. Wha heth ears til hear, let him hear."

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

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