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Isaiah 63
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Chapter 63
An apocalyptic poem on the vengeance of Yahweh
1
Who is this coming from Edom, from Bozrah in garments stained with crimson, so richly clothed, marching so full of strength? – It is I, who speak of integrity and am powerful to save.
2
– Why are your garments red, your clothes as if you had trodden the winepress?
3
– I have trodden the winepress alone. Of the men of my people not one was with me. In my anger I trod them down, trampled them in my wrath. Their juice spattered my garments, and all my clothes are stained.
4
For in my heart was a day of vengeance, my year of redemption had come.
5
I looked: there was no one to help; aghast: not one could I find to support me. My own arm then was my mainstay, my wrath my support.
6
I crushed the people in my fury, trampled them in my anger, and made the juice of them run all over the ground.
A psalm
7
Let me sing the praises of Yahweh’s goodness, and of his marvellous deeds, in return for all that he has done for us and for the great kindness he has shown us in his mercy and in his boundless goodness.
8
He said, ‘Truly they are my people, sons and no rogues’ He proved himself their saviour in all their troubles.
9
It was neither messenger nor angel but his Presence that saved them. In his love and pity he redeemed them himself, he lifted them up, carried them, throughout the days of old.
10
But they rebelled, they grieved his holy spirit. Then he turned enemy, and himself waged war on them.
11
They remembered the days of old, of Moses his servant. Where is he who brought out of the sea the shepherd of his flock? Where is he who endowed him with his holy spirit,
12
who at the right hand of Moses set to work with his glorious arm, who divided the waters before them to win himself everlasting renown,
13
who made them walk through the ocean as easily as a horse through the desert? They stumbled as little
14
as an ox going down to the plain. The spirit of Yahweh led them to rest. This is how you guided your people to win yourself glorious renown.
15
Look down from heaven, look down from your holy and glorious dwelling. Where is your ardour, your might, the yearning of your inmost heart?
16
Do not let your compassion go unmoved, for you are our Father. For Abraham does not own us and Israel[*a] does not acknowledge us; you, Yahweh, yourself are our Father, Our Redeemer is your ancient name.
17
Why, Yahweh, leave us to stray from your ways and harden our hearts against fearing you? Return, for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your inheritance.
18
Why have the wicked set foot in your sanctuary, why are our enemies trampling your sanctuary?
19
We have long been like people you do not rule, people who do not bear your name. Oh, that you would tear the heavens open and come down – at your Presence the mountains would melt,
Chapters of Isaiah
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