Jesus Christ was born in the meanest of circumstances, but the air above was filled with the hallelujahs of the heavenly host. His lodging was a cattle pen, but a star drew distinguished visitants from afar to do Him homage. His birth was contrary to the laws of life; His death was contrary to the laws of death. No miracle is so inexplicable as His teaching and His life. He had no cornfields or fisheries, but He could spread a table for 5 thousand, and have bread and fish to spare. He walked on no beautiful carpets, but He trod on the waters, and they supported Him.
He had no veneration for old mistakes; no admiration for ancient forms. He loved the truth for truth’s sake and for man’s sake. He saw oppression on every hand; injustice everywhere; hypocrisy at the altar; tyranny on the throne; and with high and splendid courage He espoused the cause of the weak against the strong; of the enslaved against the titled few.
He commanded no wealth; He founded no schools; He organized no army; He wrote no books, and yet after 1,900 years He is the one central character of human history, the perpetual theme of all preaching, they pivot-around which the events of the age revolves, the only Regenerator of the human race.
Was it merely the son of Mary who crossed the world’s horizon 1,900 years ago? Was it merely human blood that was spilled on Calvary’s hill for the redemption of sinners and which has worked such wonders in men and nations through out the centuries? His crucifixion was the crime of crimes, but no lower price than His infinite agony on the cross could have made possible our redemption. When He died few men mourned, but a black crepe was hung over the sun. Though men trembled not for their sins, yet the earth shook under the load!! All nature honored Him, sinners alone rejected Him. Sin never touched Him. Corruption could not claim His dust.
The name of Jesus sounds down the corridors of the centuries like tile music of all choirs, visible and invisible pealed forth in one anthem. His name blossoms on the pages of history like the flowers of a thousand springtime blossoming in the narrow limits of one garden. What thinking man can keep from exclaiming: “My Lord, and my God!”