Amos · Chapter 8

[ edit] The Lord God ſhewide to me þeſe þingis; and loo! an hoke of applis. And þe Lord ſaide, What ſeeſt þou, Amos? And Y ſaide, An hok of applis. And þe Lord ſaide to me, Þe eende cummeþ on my peple Yrael; Y ſhal namore putte to, þat Y paſſe by hym. And þe herris of temple ſhuln gretely ſoune in þat day, ſaiþ þe Lord God. Manye men ſhuln dye, in eche place ſilence ſhal be caſt doun.

Heere þis þing, whiche breken to gydre þe pore man, and maken needy men of þe lond for to fayle, ſayinge, Whan ſhal rype corn paſſe, and we ſhuln ſelle marchaundiſes? and þe ſaboþ, and we ſhuln opyn whete? þat we make leſſe þe meſure, and encreſce þe ſycle, and vndirputte gylfull balauncis; þat we welden in ſyluer nedy and pore men for ſhoon, and we ſelle clenſingus of whete? God ſwore aȝeinus þe pryde of Jacob, Ȝif Y ſhal forȝete in to þe eende alle þe werkis of hem. Wher on þis þing þe erþe ſhal not be moued to gidre, and eche dweller þerof ſhal mourne? And it ſhal ſtye vp as al þe flood, and ſhal be caſt out, and ſhal fleete awey as þe ſtrond of Egypt.

And it ſhal be, ſaiþ þe Lord, in þat day þe ſunne ſhal go dounn in mydday, and Y ſhal make þe erþe for to be derk in day of liȝt. And Y ſhal conuerte ȝour feeſt days in to mournyng, and alle ȝour ſongis in to weylyng; and Y ſhal leede yn on al ȝour bac a ſak, and on eche ȝour hed ballidneſſe; and Y ſhal putte it as mournyng of an oon bigeten ſone, and þe laſt þingus þerof as a bitter day. Loo! þe days cummen, ſaiþ þe Lord, and Y ſhal ſende out hungre in to erþe; not hungre of breed, neþer þriſt of water, bot of heeryng of þe word of God. And þei ſhuln be moued to gydre fro ſee vn to ſee, and fro þe norþ vn to þe eeſt þei ſhuln cumpaſſe, ſeekynge þe word of þe Lord, and þei ſhuln not fynde.

In þat day faire maydeyns ſhul faile, and ȝunge in þriſt, whiche ſweren in treſpas of Samarye, and ſayen, Þi god lyueþ, Dan, and þe waye of Berſabe lyueþ; and þei ſhuln falle, and þei ſhuln namore ryſe aȝein.