Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 63

Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 63

“Who is this person that, from Edom, comes
in garments, crimson-stained, who’s, Borzah, from?
Who is this that’s so splendidly arrayed,
so full of strength, and marching on his way?”

“It is I, who, your victory, proclaims.
I am the one whose power is to save.”

“Why are your robes red, why are they the same,
your garments, as those who are treading grapes,
the winepress, in?”  “I’ve trodden it alone, 
the winepress, and from them, there was no one,
my people. I trod on them in my wrath,
and on my garments, how their blood was splashed,
and all of my apparel, that way, stained.
For in my heart was, vengeance, of, the day,
the year for my redeeming work had come.
A helper, for, I looked, but I found none;
I stared, but, who’d sustain me, found no one.
So my own arm, it brought me victory,
and my own fury, that supported me.
I, in my anger, trampled peoples down,
I crushed them in my wrath, and let it run,
their blood went streaming out upon the ground.”

I will recount the LORD’s, his gracious deeds,
the acts, praiseworthy, of the LORD, all these,
because of all the LORD has done for us,
and the great favor shown to Is’rael’s house,
what he’s done for them in his tenderness,
and by his many acts of love, steadfast.
For he said, “Surely, are, my people, they,
they’re children who will not, e’er, me, betray,”
and he, their savior, that, what he became,
in all their troubles, it was he who saved.
No messenger or angel, not that way,
but by his presence, he himself, the same;
his love, in, and his pity, he redeemed
them; he, up, lifted them, and carried them
through all the days of old but they rebelled
and grieved his holy spirit, so, turned, he,
against them. He became their enemy,
and waged war on them, he did that himself.
Then they, all of the days of old, recalled,
of Moses, servant, his, the stories told.
Where is the one who brought them up from there,
the sea, with, of his flock, the shepherds, dear?
Where is the one who put this within them,
his holy spirit; he, whose glor’ious arm
served as a guide for Moses on his march?
Divided, who, the waters, before them,
to, for himself, make an e’erlasting name?
Who led them without stumbling through the depths,
like horses passing through the desert’s breadth.
Like cattle going down into the plain,
the Spirit of the LORD, them, rest, he gave.
Thus, how you lead your people in this way,
to make, yourself, for, that, a glor’ious name.

Look down from heaven and, all this, observe,
your palace, that is glorious, from there,
and holy. Where are both your zeal and might?
Where’s your compassion and your yearning heart?
O LORD, do not hold back for who you are:
our Father.  Though, if Abraham, he were
to know us, not, acknowledge us, to, nor
will Is’rael, you, LORD, still, our father, are;
Redeemer, our, of old, from, is your name.
O LORD, why do you make us, from your ways,
to stray, and, our heart, harden so that we
do not fear you? Turn back again, we plead
this to you for your servants’ sake, and for
the sake of tribes, that, heritage, are your.
Your holy people, for a little while,
possession, took, but now we’re asking why
have, on your sanctuary, they trespassed,
the wicked, why have they, your holy place,
down, trampled? We have long been like those whom
you do not rule, who do not bear your name.