Löydetty 2371 Tulokset: Way
Now, too, men the Lord has ransomed will come home again to Sion, praising him as they go. Eternal happiness crowns them, joy and happiness in their grasp now, sorrow and sighing fled far away. (Isaiah 51, 11)
here is the message thy master has for thee, thy Lord and God, ready to fight in his people’s cause! I am taking it away from thy hand, this draught that numbs the senses, the dregs of the vengeance I had poured out for thee; thou shalt drink it no longer. (Isaiah 51, 22)
Cruel oppressors that bade thee lie down and let them walk over thee, dust under their feet, a pathway for them to tread, shall find the cup has passed from thy hand to theirs. (Isaiah 51, 23)
This is the Lord’s promise, You were bartered away for nothing, and you shall be ransomed without cost.✻ (Isaiah 52, 3)
A victim? Yet he himself bows to the stroke;✻ no word comes from him. Sheep led away to the slaughter-house, lamb that stands dumb while it is shorn; no word from him. (Isaiah 53, 7)
The Lord calls thee back, a woman forsaken and forlorn, the wife of his youth, long cast away; thy God sends thee word, (Isaiah 54, 6)
What, always spending, and no bread to eat, always toiling, and never a full belly? Do but listen, here you shall find content; here are dainties shall ravish your hearts. (Isaiah 55, 2)
So it is with the word by these lips of mine once uttered; it will not come back, an empty echo, the way it went; all my will it carries out, speeds on its errand. (Isaiah 55, 11)
shameless dogs that cannot tell when they are gorged with food. The very shepherds have forgotten their craft; see them go their ways, each busy, first and last, with gorging his own appetite: (Isaiah 56, 11)
Alas, that none takes warning! See how good men die, how the friends of God are borne away from us; and none has the wit to see trouble is coming, and the good must be spared the sight of it!✻ (Isaiah 57, 1)
Let them deliver thee, if they can, at thy summons, these new allies thou hast made! See how they are carried away on the wind, how a breath will scatter them! His the prize, that in me has confidence; on my holy mountain he shall find a resting-place. (Isaiah 57, 13)
I will not be always claiming my due, I will not cherish my anger eternally; what soul but takes its origin from me? Am I not the maker of all that breathes?✻ (Isaiah 57, 16)
