“Slowly the Bible of the race is writ;
Each age, each kindred adds a verse to it,
Texts of despair or hope, of joy or moan.
While swings the sea, while mists the mountains shroud,
While thunder's surges burst on cliffs of cloud,
Still at the prophets’ feet the nations sit.”
—J. R. Lower.L.
** We have but part of our Holy Bible. The time will come when, as in the Middle
Ages, all pious books shall be called Scriptura Sacra—Sacred Scriptures.”—T. W. Higgis.sos.