Ma Faither haes gien aa thïngs ower tae me, an naebodie unnèrstans tha Sinn apairt frae tha Faither, an naebodie unnèrstans tha Faither apairt frae tha Sinn, an whaiver tha Sinn wants tae reveal hïm tae.
An he wus still taakin, whaniver a bricht clood cum roon thaim, an a voice frae tha clood saed, “Thïs ïs ma Sinn that A love; wi hïm A'm weel plaised. Lïsten tae hïm!”
an sayin, “Hey, you that saed ye wur gaun tae desthroy tha Hoose o God, an big ït agane ïn thrie days - save yersel! If you ir tha Sinn o God, cum doon aff that cross!”
Tha centurion an thaim alang wi hïm that wus gairdin Jesus, whaniver the' saa tha irthquake an aa that haed happent, the' wur hairt-scarred, an the' saed, “Thair can be nae doot, thïs wus tha Sinn o God!”
“If ye ir tha Sinn o God,” saed he, “throw yersel doon! Fer tha Guid Buik says: ‘He wull tell hïs angels tae luk eftèr ye, an wi thair hans the' wull haud ye up, fer fear ye dunt yer fit agin a stane.’ ”
Tha angel toul hir, “Tha Halie Spïrit an tha pooer o God wull cum doon on ye. An sae tha wean boarn tae ye wull be halie, an wull be caad tha Sinn o God.