Isaiah 63 in plain modern English. New Ground English Translation.

Who is this coming from Edom, from Bozrah with garments stained crimson? This one, magnificent in his clothing, striding forward in the greatness of his strength? "It is I — the one who speaks what is right, mighty to deliver."

Why are your garments red, your clothes like someone treading in a winepress?

"I have trodden the winepress alone — not one from any nation was with me. I trampled them in my fury, I crushed them in my rage. Their lifeblood spattered my garments and stained everything I wore."

"The day of reckoning was in my heart, and my year of redemption had arrived."

"I looked, but there was no one to help. I was appalled — not a single one to support me. So my own arm brought about the victory, and my own fury sustained me."

"I trampled peoples in my fury, I made them stagger with my rage, and I poured out their lifeblood on the ground."

I will call to mind the acts of loyal love from Yahweh, the praiseworthy deeds of Yahweh — for everything Yahweh has done for us, and the immense goodness he has shown to the house of Israel according to his compassion and the abundance of his loyal love.

He said, "Surely they are my people, children who will not deal falsely." And so he became their deliverer.

In all their distress, he too was distressed. The angel of his presence rescued them. In his love and in his mercy he bought them back; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.

But they rebelled and grieved the Breath of God. So he turned against them as their enemy; he himself fought against them.

Then his people remembered the days of old, the days of Moses. Where is the one who brought them up out of the sea with the shepherd of his flock? Where is the one who placed the Breath of God among them?

The one who sent his glorious arm at the right hand of Moses, who split the waters before them to make for himself a name that would last forever?

The one who led them through the deep waters? Like a horse in open country, they did not stumble.

Like cattle going down into the valley, the Breath of Yahweh gave them rest. This is how you led your people, to make for yourself a glorious name.

Look down from the heavens and see from your dwelling place — set apart, radiant with splendor. Where is your passion? Where is your might? The stirring of your gut, your compassion toward me — are you holding them back?

Because you are our Father. Even if Abraham does not know us and Israel does not recognize us — you, Yahweh, are our Father. "Our Rescuer from Ancient Times" is your name.

Why do you let us wander from your ways, Yahweh? Why do you let our hearts grow hard so we do not stand in awe of you? Turn back — for the sake of your servants, the tribes that are your inheritance.

Your set-apart people possessed the land for only a little while; now our enemies have trampled your sacred place.

We have become like those you never ruled over, like those who were never called by your name. If only you would tear open the heavens and come down — the mountains would tremble before you!