gaed on, “it is what comes furth o a man fyles him; for it is frae ithin, frae the hairt, at aa ill thochts comes, an aa at they breed—59hurin, theft, murther, adulterie, menseless greed, ill-daein, chaitrie, debosherie, invỳ, ill-speakin, pride, an fuilishness. Aa thir things comes frae ithin, an it is them fyles a man.”
EFTER THAT HE quat the pairt whaur he wis an gaed awà tae the kintra o Tyre, an stappit there in a houss somewey. He wissed naebodie tae ken he wis i the bit, but for him there wis nae bidin derned. Deed, it wis nae time or a wuman at hed a wee lassie wi an onclean spírit hard o him an cam an flang hersel at his feet—she wis a haithen o Sýrophoenícian bluid—an socht him tae cast the ill spírit out o her dachter.
“Lat the childer hae their sairin first,” said he til her; “it isna richt tae tak the bairns’ mait an gíe’d til the dowgs.”
“Ou ay, sir,” she answert: “but, still an on, the dowgs gits aitin muilins o the bairns’ breid ablò the table.”
“For that wurd ye hae spokken,” qo he til her, “ye may een gang your waas; the ill spírit hes gane out o your dachter.”
Sae awà the wuman gaed hame, an there she faund her lassie lyin quaitlie on her bed, an the ill spírit flittit.
EFTER THAT HE quat the kintra o Tyre again an fuir bi Sídon owre tae the Loch o Galilee an intil the mids o the Ten Touns’ kintra. There they brocht til him a tung-tackit deifie an socht him tae lay his haund on him.
Jesus tuik the man awà frae the croud his lane an stappit his fingers intil his lugs an pat a lick o his spittin on his tung, an syne, luikin up intil the lift, said til him wi an unco sech, “Ephphatha”, whilk is the Aramâic for “Be apent”. Wi that the man’s lugs wis apent, an the tack o his tung wis swackent, an he begoud speakin the same as ither fowk.
Jesus baud them say nocht o the maitter til onie-ane: but the mair he baud them, the mair eydentlie they trokit the news aa-wey an athort, an aabodie wis ondeemouslie dumfounert: “Braw an bonnie wark, aa this o his,” said they, “garrin een the deif hear an the dumb speak!”
8 A FELL THRANG hed gethert again about that time, an, as they hed nocht tae ait, Jesus cried his disciples til him an said til them, “Wae’s my hairt for the thrang: they hae bidden wi me three days nou an hae nocht left tae ait. Gin I send them awà clung tae their hames, they will swarf on the road; there’s o them bides a lang gate frae this.”
His disciples answert, “Whaur coud ye git the laifs tae stainch them here i the muirs?”
“What feck o laifs hae ye?” he speired.
“Seiven,” said they.
Sae he gíed the croud the wurd tae lean them doun on the girss. Syne he tuik the laifs an, efter thenks gíen tae God, brak them intil whangs, at he gae til his disciples tae haund tae the thrang; whilk they did. Forbye the laifs they hed a twa-three smaa fishes, an he axed a blissin owre them, tae, an tauld the disciples tae gíe them tae the thrang as weill. Ilkane gat his sairin o mait, an they liftit aff the grund efterhin seiven creelfus o orts.
Syne he skailed the thrang, whilk nummert about fowr thousand sauls, an gaed strecht an buirdit the boat wi his disciples an cam til Dalmanutha-side.
HERE THE PHARISEES cam out an begoud tae yoke wi him. Tae sey him, they socht o him a sign frae heiven. Jesus seched frae the fit o his hairt an said til them, “What gars this generâtion seek a sign? Atweill, I tell ye, the ne’er a sign will this generâtion be gíen.” Syne he quat them an, buirdin the boat aince mair, gaed owre til the ither side.
They hed forgot tae tak breid wi them—deed, they hed but ae laif on the boat; an whan Jesus warnished them an tauld them, “See an tent the barm o the Pharisees an the barm o Herod”—“What’s he ettlin at?” they speired at ither. “It maun be at our haein nae breid.”
Jesus kent what they war sayin an said til them, “What gars ye talk about haein nae breid? Div ye ey no understaund? Hae ye nae wit avà? Hae ye een, an seena? Hae ye lugs, an hearna? Div ye no mind hou monie creelfuls o orts ye liftit aff the grund, the time I brak the five laifs for the five thousand?”
“Ay, twal,” said they.
“An whan I brak the seiven laifs for the fowr thousand, hou monie scullfus o orts wis it ye liftit?”
“Seiven,” they answert.
“An div ye ey no understaund?” speired he.
SYNE THEY CAM til Bethsaïda, an there they brocht him a blinnd man an socht him tae pit his haunds on him. He grippit the man bi the haund an, takkin him out the clachan, spat on his een an laid his haund on him, syne speired at him, “See ye ocht?”
The man luikit up, an said, “Ay, I can see the fowk; I see them like as it wis trees traivlin about!”
Again Jesus laid his haund on his een, an the man glowred forenent him, an his sicht cam back til him, an he saw aathing plain an clair. Jesus than sent him strecht hame: “Gingna een intil the clachan,” qo he.
JESUS AN HIS disciples nou tuik the gate for the clachans about Caesarea Philippi, an on the road he speired at them, “Wha is the fowk sayin at I am?”
“John the Baptist,” they tauld him; “tho some says Elíjah, an ithers ane o the Prophets.”
“But ye,” he gaed on tae speir, “wha say ye at I am?”
Peter answert, “Ye ar the Christ.”
Jesus than stricklie forbaud them tae mint a wurd o it til onie-ane.
AN NOU HE begoud tae teach them at the Son o Man buid dree monie-thing an be rejeckit bi the Elders an Heid-Príests an Doctors o the Law, an be pitten tae deith, an syne rise again efter three days. Aa this he tauld them, speakin fair out an no gaein about the buss wi it.
Syne Peter drew him aside an begoud tae quarrel him, but Jesus whurlt round an, seein his disciples there, rebuikit Peter afore them aa: “Out my sicht, ye Sautan, ye! Thir thochts o yours isna God’s thochts, but men’s.”
Syne he cried the croud an his disciples til him an said til them, “Gin onie-ane is mindit tae come efter me, lat him forget himsel aathegither an tak his cross on his shuithers an gae my road wi me. Him at wad sauf his life will tyne it, an him at tynes his life for my sake an the Gospel’s will sauf it. What the better o’d is a man gin he gains the haill warld an losses his life an saul? What hes he in aa his aucht tae niffer for his saul? Him at is affrontit wi me an my wurds i this ill-gíen an sinfu generâtion, the Son o Man will be affrontit wi him, whan he comes i the glorie o his Faither wi his halie angels.”
9 This, tae, he said: “Atweill, I tell ye, there is them staundin here at winna pree deith afore they hae seen the Kíngdom o God estaiblished on the yird in pouer.”
SAX DAYS EFTER, Jesus tuik Peter an Jeames an John an gaed awà wi them, their lane sels, up a heich hill. There an unco cheinge cam owre the luik o him afore their een, an his claes becam, oh! sae clair an white—the plashmiller drawsna breith at coud mak claes as white an skinklin. Belyve Elíjah kythed tae them, an Moses wi him, an the twa o them wis speakin wi Jesus.
Syne Peter tuik speech in haund an said til Jesus, “What better coud we want nor this, Maister? We s’ bigg ye three bouers, ane for yoursel, ane for Moses, an ane for Elíjah!” He wis juist sayin the first thing at cam intil his heid; the man wis frichtit out o his wit, an the lave nae less.
Syne a cloud cam an cuist its shaidow owre them, an a voice spak out o the cloud: “This is my beluvit Son; hairken ye him.” They luikit round at aince, but there wis nae-ane tae be seen; onlie Jesus wis wi them.
As they cam doun aff the hill, he baud them no mint a wurd o what they hed seen til onie-ane or the Son o Man hed risen frae the deid. Sae they keepit the maitter til themsels, tho they discussed wi ilk ither what he meaned wi his “risin frae the deid”. Syne they speired at him, “Hou is it the Doctors o the Law says at Elíjah maun come first?”