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One Solitary Life


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One Solitary Life

James A Francis, 1926

He was born in an obscure village,

The child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in yet another obscure 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 when to college,

He never visited a big city,

He never traveled two hundred miles from

the place 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 popular

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 on a cross between two thieves.

While He was dying His executioners gambled for Hid

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 marched,

All the navies that have sailed,

All the parliaments that have ever sat,

All the kings that have ever reigned put together,

Have not affected the life of mankind as much as that


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