One Solitary Life

He was born in an obscure village, the son of a peasant woman;
He grew up in another obscure village;
Where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was thirty;
Then, for three years he was an itenerant preacher.
He never had a family, or owned a home.
He never set foot inside a big city.
He never traveled 200 miles from where he was born.
He never wrote a book, or held an office.
He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness.
While still a young man, the tide of public opinion turned against him.
His friends deserted him.
He was turned over to his enemies;
And went through the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed to a cross between two thieves.
While he was dying, his executioners gambled for the only piece of property he owned - his robe.
And when he was dead, he was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave.
Almost twenty centuries have come and gone,
And today he is the central figure for much of the human race.
All the armies that ever marched;
And all the navies that ever sailed;
And all the parliaments that ever sat;
And all the kings that ever reigned;
Put together, have not affected,
The life of man on this earth, as powerfully
as this One Solitary Life.

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