This he said til them, tae: “Tent ye weill what ye hear. The mair ye pit til’d, the mair ye s’ git frae’d, an a hantle abuit:
for til him at hes ocht
mair will be gíen,
an frae him at hes nocht
een his nocht will be taen awà.”
This he said forbye: “The Kíngdom o God is like whan a man casts seed on the grund, an sleeps an wauks, wauks an sleeps, ouk for ouk, an meantime the corn brairds an raxes up, himsel onkennin hou. The yird feshes up the crap the lane o her—first the pyle, syne the icker, syne the fu-boukit pickle i the icker. But whaniver the crap is that faur forrit, he taigles nane, but sends in the huik, because the time for shearin hes comed.”
Anither thing at he said wis this: “What will we liken the Kíngdom o God til? What will sair us for a pictur o it?
“What better nor a curn o mustart seed? Whan it is sawn, it is the littlest seed at there is, but aince it is in the moul, it raxes up an up till it owretaps aa ither gairden yirbs, an pits out sic wallie granes at the birds at flíes i the lift can bíeld i the shade o it.”
In his preachin o the Wurd tae the fowk, he yuised monie siclike parables confeirin wi their wit an uptak. Deed, til the fowk nae haet said he, an it wisna in parables: but til his disciples he brak doun aathing, whan they war bi their lanes.
THE SAME DAY, whan eenin cam on, he said til them, “Lat’s atowre tae the tither side o the Loch.” Sae they skailed the thrang an tuik him wi them i the boat whaur he wis sittin; an the’ war ither boats wi him forbye.
Belyve a fell wind begoud tae blaw, an the jaws jaupit intil the boat, till it wis naur at the sinkin. Meantime Jesus wis lyin asleep i the stern wi his heid on the coad. They waukent him, cryin til him, “Maister, carena-ye by, an us like tae be drouned?”
Sae he rase an shored the wind an caa’d tae the waves, “Wheesht ye, be quait”; an the wind dilled doun, an aa wis lown an caum. Syne he said til them, “What maks ye sic cuifs? Hae ye ey nae faith?” An they war fell feared an said til ither, “Wha can this be, at een wind an wave dis his biddin?”
5 SAE THEY WAN atowre the Loch tae the kintra o the Gerasenes. As shune as he cam aff the boat, a man wi an onclean spírit cam out frae the graffs tae meet him.
This man howffed i the graff chaumers, an the day wis by whan onie-ane coud siccar him, een wi a chein. Monitime they hed bund him wi aa kin o shackles an cheins, but the cheins he rave them sindrie, an the shackles he dang them asmash; an he wis as stour as nae man coud maister him. Day an nicht he wis ey thereout amang the graffs or on the braesides, rairin an haggin himsel wi stanes.
Whan he wis ey a lang gate aff, he saw Jesus, an he ran an flang himsel agrouf at his feet, an raired out wi a loud stevven, “What hae ye adae wi me, Jesus, Son o the Maist Híe God? For the luve of God, misgyde-me-na!” For Jesus hed sayen til him, “Come ye out o the man, ye onclean spírit!” Syne he speired him his name, an he tauld him, “My name is Legion, for there’s a gey feck o us”; an he threapit wi him no tae drive them furth o that kintra.
Nou, the’ war a muckle herd o swine feedin on the braeside; an the onclean spírits priggit him, sayin, “Send us tae thae swine owrebye, an lat’s ging intil them.” Jesus gíed them their will, an they cam outen the man an gaed intil the beass, an the haill herd—a twa thousand heid o swine—breishelt doun the heuch intil the loch an wis drouned in its watters.
Syne the herds at wis tentin the swine tuik leg frae the bit an toutit the news in toun an laundart; an the fowk cam out tae see for themsels what hed happent. Whan they cam up tae Jesus, they saw the man at hed haen the ill spírits sittin quaitlie there in his claes, aa wyss an warldlike—ay, the man at hed haen Legion in him, an nae ither! The sicht o him fleyed them, an whan ee-witnesses tauld them the outs an ins o what hed happent wi the man at hed haen the ill spírits an the swine, they socht him tae quat their kintra.
As he wis stappin abuird the boat, the man socht him tae be alloued tae ging wi him. But Jesus wadna lat him. “Gang your waas hame tae your fríends,” qo he, “an tell them hou the Lord hes taen pítie on ye, an what he hes dune for ye.” At that the man gaed awà an begoud tae troke the news throu the Ten Touns; an aabodie ferliet.
WHAN JESUS HED gotten back tae the wast side o the Loch, a fell thrang gethert in about him at the watterside. Whan he wis there, a sýnagogue-praisident, Jaírus bi name, cam up an, whan he saw Jesus, flang himsel at his feet an socht him sair for his help.
“My wee lassie’s at ane mae wi’d,” said he: “oh, an ye coud come, sir, an lay your haund on her—weill-a-wat, she’d win abuin’d an no díe!” Sae Jesus tuik the gate wi him, an a mairdle o fowk gaed alang wi him, dunshin an dirdin him, as he gaed.
Amang them wis a wuman at hed haen a rin o bluid for a twal year past. She hed been til ae doctor efter anither, an hed dree’d a feck at their haunds an waired on them aa she wis aucht forbye, an hedna gotten nae guid o’d avà, but raither hed gane frae ill tae waur. She hed hard what they war sayin about Jesus, an nou she wan up ahent him i the croud an titched his coat—“Gin I can as muckle as titch the claes o him,” said she til hersel, “I s’ git the better o my income”—an at that same maument the bluidin devauled, an she faund in her bodie at she wis redd o her auld complènt. Jesus kent o himsel strecht awà at pouer hed gane furth o him, an he turned round whaur he stuid i the mids o the thrang an said, “Wha titched my claes?”
His disciples answert, “Ye see the croud birzin about ye, an speir ye, ‘Wha titched me’?” But Jesus glowred aa round tae see wha hed dune it. Syne, chittrin wi dreid, because she kent what hed happent her, the wuman cam forrit an, flingin hersel doun at his feet, tauld him the haill truith.
“Dachter,” qo he til her, “your faith hes made ye weill, gang your waas wi my blissin, an bide quat o your auld complènt.”
The wurds wisna weill aff his tung, whan fowk cam frae Jaírus’ houss an said til him, “Your dachter is deid; ye needsna fash the Maister mair.”
Jesus made on no tae hear them an said til the sýnagogue-praisident, “Be nane fleyed; onlie hae faith.”
Syne, lattin naebodie ging wi him, forbye Peter an Jeames an Jeames’s brither John, he gaed til the houss, whaur he faund an unco stír an din o fowk greitin an yowlin. He gaed inbye an said til them, “What’s aa this stír an din an greitin? The bairn isna deid, she’s sleepin.” But they onlie leuch at him.
At that he set them aa outowre the doorstane; syne, takkin the bairn’s faither an mither an his ain three disciples wi him, he gaed ben til the chaumer whaur the wane wis lyin an, grippin her haund, said til her, “Talitha, koum”, whilk is the Aramâic for “Rise ye up, lassock, I bid ye”; an strecht the lassock rase an begoud tae traivel up an doun the chaumer. She wis twal year auld.
The lave wis fair by themsels wi mazement, but Jesus stricklie dischairgit them tae lat oniebodie ken ocht o the maitter. Syne he baud them gíe the lassie mait.
6 EFTER THIS HE quat that pairt an cam wi his disciples til his cauf-kintra.
Whan the Sabbath cam, he begoud tae teach i the sýnagogue. The place wis pang, an they war aa stoundit at him. “Whaur gat he aa that?” said they. “This wísdom he hes been gíen, what ar ye tae say o it? An thir unco warks he hes wrocht . . . ? Is he no Jesus the wricht, Mary’s son, an the brither o Jeames an Joses an Jude an Símon? An isna his sisters bidin here by us? 56Set him up!”
But Jesus said til them, “A prophet wantsna honour, binna in his ain kintra, an amang his ain fríends, an in his ain faimlie.” An no a míracle docht he wurk there, forbye at he laid his haunds on a twa-three síck fowk an hailed them; an he ferliet at their want o faith.
EFTER THIS HE gaed round throu the smaa touns an clachans, teachin the fowk. An nou he caa’d the Twal til him