Saturday 14 October 2017

Mass readings in Scots: Twenty-eighth Sunday of Year (Year A)

First reading
Isaiah 25: 6-10

An' here-awa, syne, on this sel-sam hill, 
for folk far an' near till eat their fill, 
sal Jehovah o' hosts mak ready:
o' a' that's gude, an' o' wine weel-stude; 
o' what's gude by itslane, an' wi' pith i' the bane, an' o' wine weel-clear'd an' steady. 
An' athort the height, he sal thole nae mair 
the face o' the scaum on a' folk was thar; 
nor the theek streekit owre a' natiouns: 
Deid himsel, he sal smoor alluterlie.
An' the Lord that's God, he sal dight the tear fra ilka face;
an' the scorn o ' his folk , he sal lift it clear, 
frae athort the lan' on ilka place: 
for the Lord himsel, it was, said it.
An ' folk they sal say intil siccan a day, Leuk , this is our God that did it! 
We hae tholed for him lang, an' he'll redd us a' roddin: 
it's the Lord himsel, we hae tholed for him lang; 
we'se be blythe syne, 
an ' lilt in his ain heal-haddin.
For it's lown, on this sel-sam height, 
the han' o' the Lord sal gie.

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

Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 22 (resp. v.6)

While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

Wha is my Shephard wel A ken,
The Lord hisel is he.
He leads me whaur the girse is green,
An’ burnies quaet that be.
Aft times A fain astray wud gang,
An’ wann’r far awa.

While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

He fin’s me oot, He pits me richt,
An brings me hame an’ a’.
Tho’ I pass through the gruesom sheugh,
Fin’ A ken that He is near.
His muckle cruk wull me defen’,
Sae A hae nocht tae fear.

While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

Ilk comfort whilk a sheep cud need
His thochtfu care provides.
Tho’ wolves an’ dugs may prowl aboot,
In safety me He hides.

While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

His guidness an’ his mercy, baith
Nae doot wull bide wi’ me.
While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

While faulded on the fields o’ time
His hame ma dwellin’ be.

[Punctuation, paragraphing and response added. From Psalm 23, version by Ernie Scott, Ballyclare Town Hall c.1994, from Ullans Magazine Nummer 2 Spring 1994, reported Ulster-Scots Academy blog (accessed 11 October 2020).]

Second reading
Philippians 4: 12-14, 19-20.

A ken fit it is tae wint an fit it is tae hae ower muckle. A've hid ma ups an doons an ken noo foo tae face them baith, aye foo tae be full an foo tae gyang hunngry. Bit A can face onything wi e pooer o Christ inno ma. Neeneless, it wis gweed o ye tae tak a pairt o ma tribbles.

Ma God will supply aa yer wints fae his boontifu graith in Christ Jesus. Tae God an wir Fadder be glory for aye. Amen.

[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 22: 1-14

[Jesus spak' until the chief priests an' the elders o' the people:] "The kingdom o’ heaven is like until a certain king, wha made a bridal for his son, an’ sendet furth his servan’s to ca’ them wha were bidden til the waddin’; and they wadna come. Again, he sendet furth ither servan’s, sayin’, 'Tell thae wha are bidden, behald, I hae preparet my dinner; my owsen an’ my fatlin’s are killet, an’ a’ things are ready: come until the bridal.' But they made licht o’t, an’ gaed their gates, ane til his mailen, anither til his merchandice, an’ the lave teuk his servan’s, an’ treated them spitefully, an’ killet them. But whan the king hear’t o’t, he was wrathfu’; an’ he sendet furth his sodgers, an’ destroyet thae murderers, an’ brunt up their toun. Syne saith he til his servan’s, 'The waddin’ is ready, but they wha were bidden werena wordy. Gang ye therefore intil the highways, an’ as mony as ye sall fin’, bid them til the feast.' Sae thae servan’s gaed out intil the highways, an’ gather’t thegither a’ as mony as they fand, baith bad an’ guid: an’ the waddin’ was bodin wi’ guests. An’ whan the king cam’ in to see the guests, he saw there a man wha hadna on a waddin’ garment. An’ he saith until him, 'Frien’, how camest thou in here no haein’ on a waddin’ garment?' An’ he was dumbfoun’er’t. Syne said the king til the servan’s, 'Bin’ him han’ an’ fit, an’ tak’ him awa, an’ cast him intil outer mirkness: there sall be greetin’ an’ runchin’ o’ teeth.' For mony are ca’d, but few are wal’d."

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

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