Many years ago I read translation of an old inscription posted on timber in Portugal.  

I would like to share it with visitors to my site. 

Ye who pass by and would raise your hand against me,   

hearken ere you harm me.   

I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter nights,   

the friendly shade screening you from the summer sun,    

and my fruits are refreshing draughts quenching your thirst

as you journey on.   

I am the beam that holds your house, the board of your table,

the bed on which you lie, 

and the timber that builds your boat.   

I am the handle of your hoe, the door of your homestead,   

the wood of your cradle, the shell of your coffin.    

I am the bread of kindness and the flower of beauty.  

Ye, who pass by, listen to my prayer; harm me not!