2 The' brocht a paralysed man tae hïm, lyin on a bed. An whaniver Jesus saa tha faith the' haed, he saed tae tha paralysed man, “Tak hairt, sinn; yer sïns ïs aa forgien.”
Wurd aboot hïm spreed aa ower Syria, an the' brocht tae hïm aa tha seeck fowk wi aa kines o disaises: thaim that wus tormentit, or bothert wi ïll spïrits, or tuk fïts, or fowk that wus paralysed, an he made thaim bettèr.
An that evenin, the' brocht tae hïm a hale lock o fowk that wur bothert wi ïll spïrits, an he driv oot tha spïrits wi a wurd an cured aa that wus seeck.
But jist sae as ye'll ken tha Sinn o Man haes tha pooer tae forgie sïns here on irth...” - he then saed tae tha paralysed man - “Up ye get, lïft yer bed an gae hame.”
A telt ye aa thon sae that ïn me yis can hae peace. In thïs warl ye wull hae nae enn o bother. But dïnnae be doon-hairtit got. Cheer up! A hae tha warl owercum.”