One Solitary Life

An excerpt from
One Solitary Life
By James A. Francis

He was born in an obscure village the child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in still another village
where He worked in a carpenter shop
until He was thirty, and then for three years
He was an itinerant preacher.

He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never had a family.
He never owned a house.
He never went to college.
He never visited a big city.

He never traveled
two hundred miles
from the place
where He was born.

He did none of the things
one usually associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but Himself.

He was only thirty-three when
the tide of public opinion turned against Him.
His friends ran away.
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 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.

Twenty centuries have come and gone,
and today Jesus is the central figure
of the human race,
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 have ever reigned
put together

Have not affected the life
of mankind on this earth
as much as that
one solitary life.