ONE SOLITARY LIFE

Here is a man who was born in a lowly manger, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in an obscure village. 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 went to college. He never owned a house. He never had a family. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where he was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself. He had nothing to do with this world except the power of his divine manhood. While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. His executioners gambled for the only piece of property he had on earth while he was dying - his coat. When he was dead, he was taken down and laid in a borrowed tomb through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen centuries have come and gone. Today he is the center-piece of the human race and the leader of the column of progress. I am within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that were ever built, and all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life on man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.

-- Phillips Brooks

(Here is another composition - untitled, and author unknown to me)

In infancy, he startled a king, in childhood He puzzled religious scholars, in manhood He ruled the course of nature, walked upon the billows and hushed the sea to sleep. He healed the multitudes without medicine and made no charge for His service. He never wrote a song and yet He has furnished the theme for more songs than all the songwriters combined. He never founded a college but all the schools put together cannot boast of having as many students. He never marshalled an army nor drafted soldiers nor fired a gun, and yet no leader ever had more volunteers. He never practiced psychiatry and yet He has healed more broken hearts than all the doctors far and near. Once each week and wheels of commerce cease their turning and the multitudes wend their way to worshiping assemblies to pay homage and respect to Him. The names of the past proud statesman, scientists, philosophers, and theologians are faint memories, but the Name of this man abounds more and more. Herod could not destroy Him. The grave could not hold Him. He stands forth upon the highest pinnacle of heavenly glory proclaimed of God, acknowledged by angels, adored by saints and feared by devils - as a living, personal Christ, our Lord and Savior. We are either going to be forever with Him, or forever without Him. - author unknown