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11 Why offer ye so many sacrifices to me, wyll the Lorde say? I am full of the burnt offeringes of weathers, & of the fatnesse of fed beastes, I haue no pleasure in the blood of bullockes, lambes, and goates. 12 When ye come to appeare before me treadyng in my courtes, who hath required this at your handes? 13 Offer me no mo oblations, for it is but lost labour: incense is an abhominable thyng vnto me, I may not away with your newe moones, your sabbathes & solempne meetynges, your solempne assemblies are wicked. 14 I hate your newe moones and appoynted feastes euen from my very heart, they make me weery, I can not abyde them. 15 When you holde out your handes, I wyll turne myne eyes from you: and though ye make many prayers, yet I wyll heare nothyng at all, seyng your handes are full of blood. 16 Washe you, make you cleane, put away your euyll thoughtes out of my syght: ceasse from doyng of euyll, 17 Learne to do well, applie your selues to equitie, deliuer the oppressed, helpe the fatherlesse to his ryght, let the widdowes complaynt come before you: Isaiah 1:11-17, Bishops' Bible of 1568. Public domain.
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