\u201cFOR MANY BLACKS, THERE\u2019S ONLY ONE BIBLE, AND IT\u2019S THE KJV\u201d<\/span>:<\/p>\n On Sundays, C. Elizabeth Floyd, shows up for worship at Trinity Baptist Church of Metro Atlanta, with her Bible in hand.<\/p>\n But the large, black leather Bible with dog-eared pages and hand-written notes in the margins isn\u2019t just any Bible: It\u2019s the King James Version.<\/p>\n And Floyd, like many African-Americans, wouldn\u2019t have it any other way. It\u2019s more than mere tradition. A civil rights veteran called the KJV\u2019s thees and thous \u201cromantic,\u201d and a scholar spoke of black churches\u2019 \u201clove affair\u201d with the king\u2019s English. \u2026<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s the predominant version of the Bible that\u2019s used at Trinity.\u201d More than other Americans, African-Americans have clung to the KJV\u2019s 400-year-old elevated prose. According to a recent study by LifeWay Research, only 14 percent of African-Americans have never read the KJV, compared to 27 percent of U.S. adults overall.<\/p>\n The Rev. Cheryl Sanders, an ordained minister and professor of Christian ethics at Howard University School of Divinity, said the KJV\u2019s soaring language can uplift listeners, especially those who have been oppressed.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a loftiness to the language that I believe appealed to people who are constantly being told, `You don\u2019t count. You\u2019re nobody. You\u2019re at the bottom rung of the ladder,\u201d said Sanders, who has written about black Christians\u2019 use of the KJV. \u201cIf I can memorize a verse of Scripture, it gives me a certain sense of dignity.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n