Isaiah 40:1-8 ▼

1 Comfort my people O ye prophetes comfort my people, saith your God,

2 Comfort Hierusalem at the heart, and tell her, that her trauayle is at an ende, that her offence is pardoned, that she hath receaued at the Lordes hande sufficient correction for all her sinnes.

3 A voyce crieth in wildernesse: Prepare the way of the Lorde, make strayght the path of our God in the desert.

4 All valleys shalbe exalted, and euery mountayne and hyll layde lowe: what so is croked shalbe made strayght, and the rough shalbe made playne.

5 For the glorie of the Lorde shall appeare, for all fleshe shall at once see that the mouth of the Lorde hath spoken it.

6 The same voyce spake: Nowe crye. And the prophete aunswered, What shall I crye? That all fleshe is grasse, and that all the goodlinesse therof is as the floure of the fielde.

7 The grasse is withered, the floure falleth away, for the breath of the Lord bloweth vpon them: of a trueth the people are grasse.

8 The grasse withereth, and the floure fadeth away: yet the worde of our God endureth for euer.