Almost two thousand years ago there was a Man born contrary to the laws of
life. This Man lived in poverty and was reared in obscurity. He did not 
travel extensively. Only once did He cross the boundary of the country in
which He lived; that was during His childhood exile.

He possessed neither wealth nor influence. His relatives were inconspicuous
and He had neither training nor formal education. In infancy, He startled a
king; in childhood, He puzzled doctors; in manhood, He ruled the course of
nature, walked upon the billows as if pavement, and hushed the sea to sleep.

He healed the multitudes without medicine and made no charge for His service.

He never wrote a book, and yet all the libraries of the country could not
hold the books that have been written about Him.

He never wrote a song and yet He has furnished the theme for more 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 practiced 
medicine, and yet He has healed more broken hearts than all the doctors 
far and near.

Every seventh day the wheels of commerce cease their turning and multitudes
wend their way to worshiping assemblies to pay homage and respect to Him.

The names of the past proud statesman of Greece and Rome have come and 
gone. The names of past scientists, philosophers, and theologians have 
come and gone; but the name of this Man abounds more and more. Though time
has spread two thousand years between the people of this generation and 
the scene of His crucifixion, yet He still lives.

Herod could not destroy Him, and the grave could not hold Him. 

He stands in Heavenly Glory, proclaimed of God, as the living, personal
Christ, our Lord and Saviour.