the hour nae-ane kens, no een the angels in heiven, nor the Son: na, nane but the Faither alane!
“At the comin o the Son o Man it will be the same wey as it wis i the days o Noah. I thae days afore the Fluid fowk wis thrang aitin an drinkin, mairriein an gíein in mairrage, richt up tae the time whan Noah gaed intil the Airk; an naething jaloused they, or the Fluid cam an soopit them aa awà. That is the wey it will be at the comin o the Son o Man. Twa men will be wurkin thegither i the fíeld—ane o them will be taen, an the tither left ahent; twa weimen will be caain a haundmill thegither—ane o them will be taen, an the tither left ahent. Haud ye ey wauken, than, for ye kenna what day your Maister is comin. But o this ye may be shair: gin the guidman hed kent at what hour o the nicht the thíef wis tae come, he wad hae bidden waukin, an no latten his houss be brakken intil. Sae ye, tae, maun ey be reddie, sin the Son o Man will come at an hour whan ye’r bodin him nane.
“Wha’s the wysslike an faithfu servan at his maister lippent wi the owrance o the lave, an seein at they war maitit raiglar? Happie man, at his maister, whan he comes hame, finnds daein the wark he wis gíen tae dae! He’ll gíe him the gydin o aa he is aucht, I s’ warran ye. But gin he is an ill-set bleck, yon servan, an says til himsel, ‘He’s lang o comin, the Maister’, an faas tae lounderin the ither servans an gilravagin wi the dribblin-core, syne, on a day he bodesna, an at an hour he kensna, the maister o that servan will come hame, an will hag him in píeces an assign him his dail wi the hýpocrítes; an it is there at the yaumer an the chirkin o teeth will be!
25 “Here is whatlike it will be wi the Kíngdom o Heiven, whan that day comes. The’ wis aince ten deames gaed out tae meet the bridegroom an the bride at a waddin, takkin their bouets wi them. Five o them wis glaikit lassies, an five wis wysslike queyns. The glaikit anes tuik their bouets, but they tuik nae orra oil wi them: but the wysslike anes tuik baith their bouets an oil-pouries forbyes.
“The bridegroom wis lang o comin, an the lassies aa dovert an fell owre. At midnicht the cry wis raised: ‘Here’s the bridegroom; come out an meet him!’ The din waukent the lassies, an they rase an fettelt up their bouets.
“The glaikit anes said tae the wyss anes, ‘Lat see a twa-three draps oil: our bouets is gaein out!’
“ ‘Nae fears!’ the wyss anes answert. ‘We haena what wad sair ye an hiz baith belike. Better gae tae the chops an buy yoursels some.’ Sae aff they gaed tae buy their oil.
“I the mids o the meantime the bridegroom cam, an the lassies at wis reddie gaed inbye wi him tae the waddin-brakfast, an the door wis steikit. A whilie efter, the ither lassies cam an begoud cryin, ‘Pleise, sir, apen the door til us!’ But he answert, ‘Atweill, I hae nae kennin o ye avà!’ Haud ye ey wauken, than; for ye ken naither the day nor the hour.
“Or again, it is like this. A man at wis gaein out o the kintra caa’d up his servans an haundit his haudin owre tae them tae gyde. He lippent ane wi five talents, anither wi twa, an a third wi ane—ilkane wi the soum confeirin til his capacitie. Syne he gaed his waas out o the kintra. The man at hed gotten the five talents gaed strecht awà an yuised them sae weill in tredd at he made ither five talents; an siclike him at hed gotten the twa talents wan ither twa talents. But him at hed gotten the ae talent gaed awà an howkit a hole i the grund an hade his maister’s siller intil it.
“Efter a lang time, the maister o thae servans cam hame an huid a racknin wi them. Him at hed gotten the five talents cam forrit wi ither five talents forbye an said, ‘Maister, ye lippent me wi five talents: see, here’s ither five talents I hae made.’
“ ‘Weill dune, guid an leal servan!’ said his maister til him. ‘Ye hae been leal wi the gydin o little, I s’ gíe ye the gydin o muckle. Awà in tae your Maister’s banqet!’
“Syne him at hed gotten the twa talents cam forrit an said, ‘Maister, ye lippent me wi twa talents: see, here’s ither twa talents I hae made.’
“ ‘Weill dune, guid an leal servan!’ said his maister. ‘Ye hae been leal wi the gydin o little, I s’ gíe ye the gydin o muckle. Awà in tae your Maister’s banqet!
“Lest, him at gat the ae talent cam forrit an said, ‘Maister, I kent ye for a dour man an a stour, at maws whaur he hesna sawn, an shears whaur he hesna seedit; sae I wis feared, an gaed awà an hade your talent i the grund: here it is back tae ye.’
“Ye sweird wratch o a servan!’ said his maister. ‘Ye kent at I maw whaur I haena sawn, an shear whaur I haena seedit—ye kent that, na? A-weill, than, ye suid hae pitten my siller i the Bank, an syne I wad hae gotten it back wi annualrent at my hamecome. Tak his talent awà frae him, an gíe it til him at hes the ten talents:
For til havers mair is gíen,
till it faur outgangs their need:
frae not-havers is taen
een what they hae.
An cast yon wanwurdie servan intil the mirk outbye.’ It is there at the yaumer an the chirkin o teeth will be!
“Whan the Son o Man comes in his glorie, an aa his angels wi him, he will sit him doun on his throne o glorie; an aa the fowks o the yird will be gethert afore him, an he will shed them intil twa hirsels, as a herd sheds the sheep frae the gaits; an the sheep he will hirsel on his richt haund, an the gaits on his cair haund.
“Than the Kíng will say til them on his richt haund, ‘Come your waas, ye at hes my Faither’s blissin, an tak possession o your heirskip, the Kíngdom prepared for ye frae the founds o the warld wis laid. For I wis yaup, an ye gae me mait; I wis thristie, an ye gae me drink; I wis an outlan, an ye gae me bed an bicker; I wis nakit, an ye cleadit me; I wis síck, an ye tentit me; I wis in jyle, an ye cam inbye tae me.’
“Syne the richteous will answer, ‘Lord, whan saw we ye yaup, an gae ye mait? Or thristie, an gae ye drink? Whan saw we ye an outlan, an gae ye bed an bicker? Or nakit, an cleadit ye? Whan saw we ye síck or in jyle, an gaed inbye til ye?’
“Syne the Kíng will say til them, ‘Atweill, I tell ye, oniething at ye did til ane o thir hummle brithers o mine, ye did it til me.’
“Than will he say til them on his cair haund, ‘Awà wi ye out o my sicht, ye curst anes, awà til the iverlestin fire prepared for the Deivil an his angels! For I wis yaup, an ye gae-me-na mait; I wis thristie, an ye gae-me-na drink; I wis an outlan, an ye gae-me-na bed an bicker; I wis nakit, an ye cleadit-me-na; I wis síck an in jyle, an ye tentit-me-na.’
“Syne they, tae, will answer, ‘Lord, whan saw we ye yaup, or thristie, or an outlan, or nakit, or síck, or in jyle, an wadna dae ocht for ye?’
“An he will say tae them, ‘Atweill, I tell ye, oniething at ye did no dae til ane o thir hummle anes, ye did no dae it tae me.’ An thir will gang awà til iverlestin punishment, but the richteous will gang til iverlestin life.”
26 WHAN HE WIS throu wi aa thir discoùrses, Jesus said til his disciples, “It’s the Passowre the day efter the morn, ye ken; an the Son o Man is tae be haundit owre tae be crucifíed than.”
Juist at this time, the Heid-Príests an Elders o the Fowk forgethert i the pailace o the Chíef Heid-Príest, Caiaphas bi name, an collogued thegither hou they micht get their haunds on him bi some wimple an pit him tae deith—“no on the Feast-Day, tho,” said they, “for fear o raisin a stírrie amang the fowk!”
JESUS WIS STAPPIN in Bethanie in Símon the Lipper’s houss, whan a wuman cam up til him wi an alabaster stowp o dairthfu ointment in her haund, as he lay at the buird, an tuimed it owre his heid. The disciples wis angert tae see it. “The waistrie o it!” said they. “It micht hae been sauld for a gey soum, an the siller gíen tae the puir.”
Jesus heared them, an said tae them, “What needs ye fyke the wuman that gate? It’s a bonnielike thing she’s dune tae me! The puir ye hae ey amang ye, but ye s’ haena me ey. Her pourin this ointment on my bodie is a fore-redd for my buiral. Atweill, I tell ye, whauriver the Gospel is preached i the haill warld, the storie o this at she hes dune will be tauld an aa, sae at she may