TSK · Malachi 2:17

Perfect is the worke of the most mightie God, for all his wayes are iudgement: He is a God of trueth, without wickednesse, righteous and iust is he.

And why? Iob hath sayd, I am righteous, and God hath taken away my iudgement.

O father, let Iob be well tryed, because he hath aunswered for wicked men:

He sayeth in his heart, tushe, the Lord hath forgotten: he hydeth away his face, and he wyll neuer see it.

When your fathers tempted me, proued me: yea after they had seene my worke.

I hate your newe moones and appoynted feastes euen from my very heart, they make me weery, I can not abyde them.

The prophete aunswered, Then heare ye of the house of Dauid: Is it not inough for you that ye be greeuous vnto me, but ye must greeue my God also?

Thou boughtest me no deare spice with thy money, neither powredst the fat of thy sacrifices vpon me: but thou hast laden me with thy sinnes, and weeried me with thy vngodlynesse.

Seing thou goest from me, and turnest backwarde, saith the Lorde: therfore I dyd stretche out myne hande against thee to destroy thee, and I haue ben sorie for thee so long that I am weerie.

Then sayde he vnto me, The wickednesse of the house of Israel and Iuda is exceedyng great: so that the lande is full of blood, & the citie full of reuoltyng from God for they say, The Lorde hath forsaken the earth, and the Lorde seeth it not.

Beholde, I am pressed vnder you, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaues.

A sonne honoureth his father, and a seruaunt his maister: If then I be a father, where is myne honour? if I be a maister, where is my feare? Saith the Lorde God of hoastes to you O ye pristes that despise my name, and ye say, Wherein haue we despised thy name?

Wyll a man spoyle his Gods? yet ye haue spoyled me: and ye say, Wherein haue we spoyled thee? In tythes and offeringes?

And nowe we call the proude happie: yea the workers of wickednesse are set vp, and also they that tempt God, yea they are deliuered.

This first vnderstande, that there shall come in the laste dayes mockers, whiche wyll walke after their owne lustes,