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