Immediately below, the king was seated on his throne, holding in each hand a book, on which was written "the Word of God." One of these he was giving to Cranmer and another bishop, who with a group of priests were on the right of the picture, saying, "Take this and teach;" the other on the opposite side he held to Cromwell and the lay peers, and the words were, "I make a decree that, in all my kingdom, men shall tremble and fear before the living God." A third scroll, falling downwards over his feet, said alike to peer and prelate, "Judge righteous judgment. Turn not away your ear from the prayer of the poor man." The king's face was directed sternly towards the bishops, with a look which said, "Obey at last, or worse will befal you." In the third compartment, Cranmer and Cromwell were distributing the Bible to kneeling priests and laymen; and, at the bottom, a preacher with a benevolent beautiful face was addressing a crowd from a pulpit in the open air. He was apparently commencing a sermon with the text, "I exhort therefore that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men--for kings"--and at the word "kings" the people were shouting "Vivat Rex!--Vivat Rex!" children who knew no Latin lisping "God save the King!" and, at the extreme left, at a gaol window, a prisoner was joining in the cry of delight, as if he, too, were delivered from a worse bondage. [Sidenote: The entire translation substantially the work of Tyndal.] This was the introduction of the English Bible--this the seeming acknowledgment of Henry's services. Of the translation itself, though since that time it has been many times revised and altered, we may say that it is substantially the Bible with which we are all familiar. The peculiar genius--if such a word may be permitted--which breathes through it--the mingled tenderness and majesty--the Saxon simplicity--the preternatural grandeur--unequalled, unapproached, in the attempted improvements of modern scholars--all are here, and bear the impress of the mind of one man--William Tyndal. Lying, while engaged in that great office, under the shadow of death, the sword above his head and ready at any moment to fall, he worked, under circumstances alone perhaps truly worthy of the task which was laid upon him--his spirit, as it were divorced from the world, moved in a purer element than common air. [Sidenote: Tyndal's martyrdom.]