From an original painting by James Flux.

He was born in an obscure village.
He worked in a carpenter shop until he was thirty.
He then became an itinerant preacher.
He never held an office.
He never had a family or owned a house.
He didn't go to college.
He had no credentials but himself.
He was only thirty-three when the public turned against him.
His friends ran away.
He was turned over to the 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.
He was laid in a borrowed grave.
Nineteen centuries have come and gone and today,
he is the central figure of the human race.
All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed,
all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned,
have not affected the life of a man on this earth
as much as that....One Solitary Life.