• He was born in manger in the heart of bethlehem.
    An obscure village,the child of a peasant woman.
    He grew up in still another village..
    When He was thirty he worked in a carpenter shop
    Then for three years, he was an itinerant preacher
    He never wrote a book,
    He never held an office.
    Nor never had a family,nor even owned a house..
    He never visited a big city.
    He did none of the things.
    One usually associates with greatness..
    He had no credentials but himself.

    When he was 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.
    Nineteen centuries have come and gone, And today he is, the central figure of the human race,
    And the leader of mankind's progress..
    All the armies that ever marched,
    All the navies that ever sailed,
    All the parliaments that ever sat,
    All the kings that ever reigned..
    Put together,have not affected..
    The life of man on this earth
    As much as that One Solitary Life