They shout at me and plead
Theres just too much against you now
This time you cant succeed
And as I start to hang my head
in front of failure`s face,
my downwards fall is broken by
the memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will
As I recall that scene
For just the thought of that short race
rejuvenates my being.
A childrens race-young boys, young men
How i remember well
Excitement, sure! But also fear,
It wasnt hard to tell
They all lined up so full of hope
each thought to win the race.
Or tie for first, or if not that,
At least take second place
And fathers watched from off the side
Each cheering for his son
And each boy hoped to show his dad
that he would be the one
The whistle blew and off they went,
young hearts and hopes afire.
To win and be the hero there
was each young boys desire
and one boy in particular,
whose dad was in the crowd,
was running near the lead and thought:
My dad will be so proud!
But as they sped down the field
Across a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought to win
Lost his head and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself,
His hard to catch himself,
His hands flew out to brace,
But mid the laughter of the crowd
He fell flat on his face
So down he fell and with him hope
He couldnt win it now-
Embaressed, sad, he only wished
To disappear somehow
But as he fell his dad stood up, and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said,
Get up and win the race!
He quickly rose, no damage done,
Behind a bit, thats all-
And ran with all his mind and might
to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself
to catch up and to win-
His mind went faster than his ñegs,
He slipped and fell again!
He wished then he had quit before,
with only one disgrace.
I`m hopeless as a runner now,
I shouldnt try to race.
But in the laughing crowd he searched
and found his fathers face,
that steady look which said again
Get up and win the race!
So up he jumped to try again
Ten yards behind the last-
If im to gain these yeards, he thought
ive got to move real fast
Exerting everything he had
He regained eight or ten
but trying so hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again!
Defeat: he lay there silently
A tear dropped from his eye-
Theres no sense running anymore
Three strikes1 I`m out" Why try!
the will to rise had disappeared;
All hope had fled away
So far behind, so error prone
A loser all the way.
I`ve lost, so whats the use, he thought
Ill live with my disgrace
But then he thought about his dad
Who soon hed have to face
Get up, an echo sounded low
Get up and take your place
You were not meant for failure here
Get up and win the race
With borrowed will get up, it said
you havent lost at all
For winning is no more than this;
to rise each time you fall
So up he rose to run once more
And with a new commit
He resolved that win or lose
at least he wouldnt quit
So far behind the others now,
The most hed ever been
Still he gave it all he had
And ran as though to win
Three times he`s fallen, stumbling,
Three times he rose again,
Too far behind to hope to win
He still ran to the end
They cheered the winning runner,
As he crossed the line first place.
Head high, and proud, and happy,
No falling, no disgrace
But when the fallen youngster
Crossed the line last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last,
with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought hes won the race
to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly sad
I didnt do too well
To me, you won. his father said
You rose each time you fell
And now when things seem dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy
Helps me in my race
For all of life is like that race,
with ups and downs and all
And all you have to do to win
is rise each time you fall.
All God wants to do is help us every time we fall! We will fall a lot. But that doesnt matter. We are not in a race against other people here.
