Isaiah 63

Who is this coming from Edom, In crimsoned garments from Bozrah— Who is this, majestic in attire, Pressing forward with great might? “It is I, who contend victoriously, Powerful to give triumph.”

Why is Your clothing so red, Your garments like those of someone who treads grapes?

“I trod out a vintage alone; Of the peoples nobody was with Me. I trod them down in My anger, Trampled them in My rage; Their life-blood bespattered My garments, And all My clothing was stained.

For I had planned a day of vengeance, And My year of redemption arrived.

Then I looked, but there was none to help; I stared, but there was none to aid— So My own arm wrought the triumph, And My own rage was My aid.

I trampled peoples in My anger, I made them drunk with My rage, And I hurled their glory to the ground.”

I will recount GOD’s kind acts, GOD’s praises— For all that GOD has wrought for us, The vast bounty to the House of Israel That was bestowed upon them According to God’s mercy and great kindness.

[God] thought: Surely they are My people, Children who will not play false. So [God] was their Deliverer.

In all their troubles [God] was troubled, And the angel of the divine Presence delivered them. In love and pity It was [God] who redeemed them, Raised them, and exalted them All the days of old.

But they rebelled, and grieved God’s holy spirit; Then it was [God] who became their enemy, And made war against them.

Then they remembered the ancient days, The One who pulled a precious people out [of the water]: “Where is the One who brought them up from the Sea Along with the shepherd of this flock? Where is the One whose holy spirit Was placed in their midst,

Whose glorious arm was made To march at the right hand of Moses, Who divided the waters before them To make a reputation for all time,

Who led them through the deeps So that they did not stumble— As a horse in a desert,

Like a beast descending to the plain?” ’Twas the spirit of GOD gave them rest; Thus did You shepherd Your people To win for Yourself a glorious name.

Look down from heaven and see, From Your holy and glorious height! Where is Your zeal, Your power? Your yearning and Your love Are being withheld from us!

Surely You are our Father: Though Abraham regard us not, And Israel recognize us not, You, O ETERNAL One, are our Father; From of old, Your name is “Our Redeemer.”

Why, ETERNAL One, do You make us stray from Your ways, And turn our hearts away from revering You? Relent for the sake of Your servants, The tribes that are Your very own!

Our foes have trampled Your Sanctuary, Which Your holy people possessed but a little while.

We have become as a people You never ruled, To which Your name was never attached. If You would but tear open the heavens and come down, So that mountains would quake before You—