He was born in an obscure village. He grew up in another village where he worked in a Carpenters shop, then for three years he was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book, he never held an important post, he never owned a house. He didn't go to college. He never visited a big city. He never travelled more than two hundred miles from the place where he was born. He did none of the things one usually associates with Greatness - he had no crudentials but himself. He was only 33 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 the cross between two thieves and while he was dying his executioners gambled for his clothing - the only piece of property he had on earth.

When he was dead he was laid in a borrowed grave. Twenty centuries have come and gone, and today he is the central figure of the human race - the leader of all 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 have not affected the lives of people on this earth as much as that one Solitary life.