Share my harvest and my home."

That the Bible was translated into English at the time when the
language was spoken and written in its most noble form, by men whose
style has never been surpassed in strength combined with simplicity,
has been a priceless blessing to the English-speaking race. The land of
its birth, once flowing with milk and honey, has been for long centuries
a place of barren rocks and arid deserts: Persians and Greeks and
Romans and Turks have successively swept over it; the descendants
of those who at different times produced its different books are
scattered to the ends of the earth; but the English translation has for
long years been the head corner-stone in homes innumerable as the
sands of the sea in number.

No upheavals of the earth, no fire, pestilence, famine, or slaughter, can
ever now blot it out from the ken of men.

When all else is lost we may be sure that the old English version of the
Bible will survive. "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words
shall not pass away."

Do not think it enough therefore, Antony, to hear it read badly and
without intelligence or emotion, in little detached snippets, in church
once a week.

Read it for yourself, and learn to rejoice in the perfect balance,
harmony, and strength of its noble style.

Your loving old
G.P.