Friday, March 14, 2014

One Solitary Life

 He was born
 in an obscure village
The child of a peasant woman
He grew up
 in another obscure village
Where He worked
 in a carpenter shop
Until He was thirty.
He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never went to college.
He never visited a big city.

He never traveled
more than two hundred miles
From the place
 where He was born
He did none of the things
Usually associated with greatness
He had no credentials
 but Himself
He was only thirty three.

His friends ran away
 One of them denied 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 dying, His executioners
 gambled for his clothing
The only property
 He had on earth.
When He was dead
He was laid
 in a borrowed grave
Through the pity
 of a friend.
Nineteen centuries
 have come and gone
And today Jesus 
is the central figure
 of the human race
And the Leader
 of mankind's progress
All the armies
 that have ever marched,
All the navies
 that have ever sailed,
All the parliaments
 that have ever sat,
All the kings
 that ever reigned,
 put together,
Have not affected
 the life of 
mankind on earth,
As powerfully as that
 One Solitary Life.
Dr James Allan
 © 1926

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