Here we see unknown writers in the hills of ancient Judah, seated in simple homes that from the point of view of our present - day
luxury might be regarded as little better
than hovels, surrounded with furnishings more bare and austere
than those of a medieval
monastery, equipped with simple reed pens and rolls of papyrus, or perhaps with broken sherds of old pots, as they slowly indite in awkward, ancient Hebrew characters, words that have run like fire and are potent at this distant day.